


Hide Your Soul out of His Reach

by twinkjohnmurphy



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Berries, Bonfires, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Smut, Hurt/Comfort, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Nightmares, Nostalgia, Panic Attacks, Past Sexual Abuse, Rape/Non-con Elements, There's fluff in here i promise, canon divergent after the beginning of s2e01, it's not all angst, murphy is in need of comfort and bellamy is protective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-08-09 16:32:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 13
Words: 30,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7809106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twinkjohnmurphy/pseuds/twinkjohnmurphy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“John?” He swiveled his head to see who the <em>fuck<em> was calling him by his first name but regretted it instantly when he caught sight of the tall, dark-haired man next to him. </em></em></p>
<p> No. No, god, <em>please</em> no.</p>
<p>Murphy suddenly felt sick and was once again struggling to catch his breath. There was no possible way, out of anyone to fucking survive the trip down to the ground that <em>he</em> was here. Here, next to Murphy in this hall that now seemed so goddamned <em>small,</em> way too small to breathe in, touching his <em>arm</em> for Christ’s sake. He was practically hyperventilating.<br/><br/>---<br/><br/>Set at the beginning of season 2.<br/>When Murphy returned to Camp Jaha on a stretcher, he found himself face-to-face with someone from his past.<br/>Bellamy needed to help rescue the other delinquents, but he couldn't forget the terrified look in Murphy's eyes.<br/>Who was the man in the hall, and what did he want with Murphy?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so this is my first multi-chapter fic, it's going to end up being around 20-25k words i think.  
> please feel free to comment, question, and critique, i'd love to hear your opinions!
> 
> title from Fleurie's "Soldier"

As the rescue squad made their way to the edge of the forest and approached the opening gates of the new camp, Murphy began to feel somewhat anxious. He hadn’t imagined Camp Jaha would be so developed, at least not this soon. Hadn’t the Ark crashed only a mere several days before? He whipped his head around, quickly scanning their new home from his spot on the makeshift stretcher. For the first time since he was banished by the other delinquents, he felt the smallest bit of hope creep into him, excited at the prospect of a real second chance. 

Although Murphy would rather die than admit it, the camp was pretty impressive. He turned on his side, straining to see as many of the Arkers milling about as he could. There were definitely more people here than he had expected. After seeing the space station fall from the sky and plummet to the ground he was sure there would be few, if any, survivors. Where were the other delinquents, though? He was almost certain they had avoided the Dropship’s fiery blast, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t spot any of the kids’ familiar faces among the crowd. Minus, of course, an injured Raven and an incredibly pissed off Bellamy. Murphy listed a little too far to his left in his curiosity, throwing the guards that carried him off balance and nearly rolling himself onto the ground before someone placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, easing him down onto his back.

“Easy there,” Jackson cautioned, voice even and endearing. Murphy knew the nurse from his countless visits to the medical ward on the Ark. It seemed like almost once a week Murphy would be sitting on a counter with Jackson bandaging his bruised, scraped knuckles after whatever fight he’d managed to land himself in and tut-tutting about learning to be the bigger person, but never in a condescending way. He always assumed most patients appreciated Jackson’s kindness and normally he wouldn’t care one way or another, but at the moment it simply irritated him. He refrained from rolling his eyes, not eager to make another enemy so soon, and allowed himself to be laid back on the stretcher for now. He would have plenty of time to scope out his surroundings once his goddamn leg wasn’t in so much pain. Stupid fucking Grounders. If there was one thing Murphy couldn’t stand it was not being able to move around on his own; he abhorred the thought of being immobilized. Whatever. He figured soon enough he’d be given something to dull the ache and the thought of being numb for a bit had him pleasantly distracted for the time being.

When they finally got to the section of the station that had been designated as the new medical wing, he waited patiently while Abby tended to Raven. Normally Murphy would be all cockiness and sass, petulantly demanding some attention for his own wounds, but his guilt had him keeping his mouth shut for once. He never meant to hurt Raven, honestly. Collateral damage and all that. He shifted his uneasy gaze from her pale face to the floor and swallowed hard. Although grateful, he still didn’t understand why she hadn’t just fessed up to him shooting her when Kane burst into the Dropship. If things had worked out differently, he supposed, maybe they could have been friends. She was one of the few people he didn’t have to force himself to tolerate, after all. Jackson appeared suddenly at Murphy’s side, interrupting his train of thought.

“Dr. Griffin might be a while, John. Why don’t you go rest for now and I’ll come get you when she’s finished with Raven?” Murphy opened his mouth, snarky comment on the tip of his tongue, but he faltered when he realized he no longer had a tent to call his own. Jackson noticed the boy’s hesitation, concern furrowing his brow. “Is something wrong?” Murphy suddenly became very interested in the fraying edges on the hem of his tattered shirt.

“No. I mean…no. It-it’s just that I don’t really, uh…” he trailed off, avoiding Jackson’s confused gaze at all costs. He could feel his face burning because of how pathetic he sounded right now. God, he shouldn’t have said anything. Sleeping in an abandoned closet somewhere in this metal monstrosity would have been better than admitting he didn’t know anything about what to do or where to go next. An apologetic look crossed Jackson’s face and Murphy bristled. He didn’t need the nurse’s goddamn pity. Jackson began to voice a solution, but he had barely started talking before Murphy huffed out a quick “never mind” and hopped to his feet. Or, well, he attempted to. Instead, he let out a yelp and stumbled forward into Jackson, who caught Murphy’s small frame easily and steadied him, careful not to say anything to upset the boy further. Just as Murphy was about to pry himself from Jackson’s grasp, Raven’s anguished screams pierced the room.

Abby was ordering around the other two nurses, who looked panicked and appeared to be lacking experience. “Jackson, I need you over here _now._ ” Her intense glare left no room for argument.

“Be right there, Abby,” he rushed. Jackson glanced at the boy in front of him, who was clearly in need of help as well but, you know, priorities. Murphy shifted uncomfortably, careful not to disturb his injury. Jackson scanned the room and spotted someone standing near the door who seemed like he would be strong enough to help Murphy to a bed. “Hey, you!” he hollered, gaining the man’s attention, “I need you to get this boy to one of the empty rooms in the West wing right away.” Murphy was too distracted by the burning in his leg to pay much mind to whomever Jackson was delegating orders. He was pretty sure that the gash on his upper thigh was bleeding again from his careless movement. He really wanted to ask for some painkillers but he figured now might not be the best time, so he kept quiet and tried to count to ten. Jackson promptly sprinted to Abby’s side as the person approached Murphy and it wasn’t until he felt a rough hand grab his upper arm that he bothered to see who had been reluctantly assigned to Murphy Duty. He immediately regretted looking up when a pair of familiar dark eyes met his own and he felt his heart rate spike.

Murphy blinked dumbly. It felt as if his mouth had gone completely dry and his voice wavered as he spoke. “Uh, Bellamy…” was all he could manage before the older boy was practically dragging him out of the medical wing.

It took about five minutes for them to finally reach the West wing and for Murphy to calm down enough to breathe properly. He was pretty sure that instead of taking him to a room like Jackson had requested, Bellamy would just save everyone the trouble and kill him once there was no one around to see. Not that anyone would fault Bellamy for an act like that anyway. They’d probably crown him. Murphy noticed, however, that despite the anger that seemed to be radiating off him in waves, Bellamy was still fully supporting his weight as they walked, Murphy’s arm strung across the other’s broad shoulders. Bellamy was silently searching for a vacant room when Murphy finally decided to speak. 

“Hey, um…thanks,” he mumbled. Eloquence never was Murphy’s strong suit but, hey, at least he said _something._

“Shut up, Murphy,” grunted Bellamy, shooting a hard glare down at him. Murphy thought about retaliating but honestly he probably deserved that, so he let it slide. 

They were coming up on the last few rooms in the hallway when a man stepped out from a door on the right. Neither paid much attention to him until Murphy felt a hand on his arm. “John?” He swiveled his head to see who the _fuck ___was calling him by his first name but regretted it instantly when he caught sight of the tall, dark-haired man next to him.

No. No, god, _please_ no. 

Murphy suddenly felt sick and was once again struggling to catch his breath. There was no possible way, out of anyone to fucking survive the trip down to the ground that _he_ was here. Here, next to Murphy in this hall that now seemed so goddamned _small,_ way too small to breathe in, touching his _arm_ for Christ’s sake. He was practically hyperventilating. 

Bellamy was just about to tell this dude that the two of them could catch up all they wanted as soon as he was able to dump Murphy off by himself when he felt the boy next to him start to shake violently. All thoughts of actively hating Murphy dissipating, Bellamy turned to him and tried to meet his gaze. “Murph? Hey, what is it? Murphy? Hey!” Bellamy snapped his fingers in front of Murphy’s face in an attempt to get him to answer, or at least focus, but it was no use. Murphy’s breaths were short and rapid, his piercing blue eyes now red-rimmed and close to spilling over with tears. Bellamy had never seen someone become so uneasy so quickly, especially not _Murphy_ of all people. 

Just as Bellamy was about to place his hand on Murphy’s cheek and make the boy look at him, Murphy collapsed, unconscious, apparently having been too overwhelmed by the unexpected panic attack. “What the hell?” he whispered to himself, and shot an accusatory look at the guy that had apparently caused this. Bellamy had no idea how, or if his glare was even warranted (for all he knew, this could just be some weird PTSD reaction or something), but he didn’t manage to stop himself in time. In an instant Bellamy had Murphy cradled in his arms and was heading back to the medical ward. The boy looked so small and innocent like this, and Bellamy felt a pang of guilt when he recalled how young Murphy actually was, and how much he’d been through in such a short while. He swallowed hard and quickened his pace. 

“W-wait! Is he alright?!” the man in the hallway called after Bellamy, distress obvious in his voice. Maybe he knew Murphy from the Ark. 

Bellamy didn’t bother to pause, merely shouting, “I don’t know!” over his shoulder before glancing down at Murphy again and mumbling to himself, “I hope so.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the cliffhanger! i'll try to have the next chapter up within a couple days <3


	2. Chapter 2

When Murphy dreamt, it wasn’t so much visual as it was in feelings, both physical and emotional. It hadn’t been that long ago, but even now he was unable to recall the faces of the Grounders that had tortured him for what felt like ages. But it wasn’t the _who_ in his dreams that haunted him, it was the _what._ He could still feel the sharp sting of the blades they used to cut into his pale skin. His flesh burned with the memory of knives heated over a fire, then pressed firmly against his stomach, his back, his thighs. Even his throat would end up raw from endless screams that carried over into the real world as he relived the horrifying experience of having his fingernails ripped from their nail beds. But by far the worst part was the feeling of debilitating fear and utter hopelessness he was plagued with almost nightly. He would finally jolt awake, gasping for air and covered in sweat. More often than not, he’d find himself on the floor in the morning, having thrashed off the bed at some point, hair plastered to his forehead and knuckles white from clenching his fists for what seemed like hours. He knew that if his nails had actually grown back yet, there would be little crescent moon imprints on his palms.

So when Murphy awoke slowly on an exam table in the medical wing, he was surprised to see that there appeared to be no signs of restlessness in his sleep this time. While he was trying to make his mind up about whether that was a good sign or not, he finally noticed a head of dark curls resting on the table next to his left hip. Confused, he shifted slightly away from Bellamy, remembering that they were probably not on good terms and coming to the conclusion that he must be here to yell at Murphy for…well, for _something._ He tried to recount what had happened after leaving the medical wing earlier and- wait, how long had he been asleep? Was it even the same day? What the fuck happened and why was he back in the exam room? Bellamy stirred and Murphy’s breath hitched, unsure of what would happen next.

“Murph?” Bellamy questioned, voice gruff from sleep and eyes bleary. He yawned and stretched back over the chair he had placed next to Murphy’s table. His shirt rode up a bit, revealing a sliver of his caramel skin and a peek of hip bone. Murphy swallowed and had to force himself to turn his head away when he realized he had been staring and hoped Bellamy wasn’t aware. Murphy had stayed silent and Bellamy, now awake enough to notice, tried getting him to finally say something. “Murphy? How are you feeling?” There was no hint of malice in his voice, and Murphy thought Bellamy even seemed anxious. Strange.

Murphy let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Um, fine. Hungry, I guess. How long was I asleep?” To prove his point, his stomach growled and Bellamy had to try hard not to smile, relieved to find that Murphy no longer appeared to be in his panic-stricken state.

“About twelve hours. Jackson told me that there’s nothing wrong with you but I wanted to stay and make sure for myself. You had me worried there for a bit, man.” Bellamy leaned forward to brush some hair out of Murphy’s eyes but he recoiled, still perplexed as to why Bellamy was being so nice to him.

“What do you mean you were worried? Did they finally examine my leg or…?” Murphy stared blankly at Bellamy and now it was his turn to be confused.

“Your leg? No, you…you don’t remember?” Concern was etched into Bellamy’s features, but Murphy had no clue why.

“No, Bell, the last thing I remember was you grabbing me and leading me out of the medical wing. What’s going on?” Murphy flushed faintly when he realized he had called the older boy ‘Bell’ since he hadn’t used the nickname in front of him before, but Bellamy seemed unfazed.

“Murphy, you had a panic attack and fainted.” Bellamy stood and took a step closer to Murphy. “I don’t know what caused it. We were looking for a room for you to sleep awhile and all of a sudden you were hyperventilating. I tried asking you what was wrong but then you passed out. I carried you back here, so they could figure out what happened. I thought you had just lost a lot of blood or you were in shock maybe, I don’t know…” he finished with a shrug. Bellamy looked like he was going to say something else and changed his mind, but Murphy wasn’t about to let it go.

Embarrassed at having been so weak in front of someone who had wanted him dead less than a month ago, Murphy decided he really needed to solve his fainting problem. “And that’s all that happened?” he prompted. Bellamy hesitated, but just shrugged again. Murphy scoffed, “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“That’s what I thought too, but…” Bellamy frowned and licked his lips, obviously contemplating saying more.

“Jesus, spit it out, Bell. I know there’s something you’re not telling me.”

“Well, when we were in the West wing trying to find a room, we ran into someone,” Bellamy stated simply.

_"Who?"_ Murphy was beginning to get annoyed with the vague responses Bellamy was giving him.

Bellamy opened his mouth and closed it again, realizing that he didn’t have any idea who the hell that guy was that they met in the hallway. But he had to have known Murphy; he did refer to him by his first name after all. “I, uh…actually I don’t really know,” he stammered and rubbed the back of his neck, quickly coming to the conclusion that he was absolutely zero help at all right now. “A man came out of his room and called you John, and that was literally the extent of it. After that you just lost it.” Bellamy ran a hand through his tangled curls.

Murphy stared at Bellamy in disbelief, mouth slightly agape. This was by far the most ridiculous story he had heard. “No, no way,” he said as he shook his head and began to lift himself from the exam table. Bellamy placed a deft hand on Murphy’s shoulder to keep him from aggravating the fresh stitches on his thigh. Murphy rolled his eyes, but placated him. “Seriously, Bellamy, there’s gotta be another reason. People don’t just freak out like that. _I_ don’t just freak out like that.”

Bellamy had to admit that he had a point. Murphy had been known for his temper, sure, and was quick to many emotions, but vulnerability was not one of them. In the entire time he had known Murphy, Bellamy couldn’t think of a single instance he had seen him so, well, _disturbed._ The closest he could recall was when he came across the boy huddled in on himself in the Dropship, absolutely covered in his own blood after he escaped from the Grounders for the first time. But even then, it took days of nonstop torture to get him to that point, and it wasn’t long before Murphy was his usual, belligerent self again.

“I don’t know, Murph. Look, we’ll figure it out soon, alright? But right now you have to rest, ‘cause if you keep trying to move around your leg is never gonna heal. Stay here and I’ll go get you some food and water. Jackson’ll probably be by soon to change your bandages as well.” Bellamy noticed a brief look of disappointment cross the boy’s face. “Hey,” he added, softening his voice, tentatively reaching over again to move Murphy’s hair from his eyes, “I’ll be back before you know it.” And with a wink that Murphy nearly missed, Bellamy was out the door.

He made his way through the winding halls of the Ark, heading for the exit. Bellamy couldn’t help but feel a little guilty at having spent half a day asleep by Murphy’s side when he should have been with Kane and the others, who were currently out looking for Clarke and the rest of the delinquents. It’s not like Kane would have allowed Bellamy to tag along, though; as of right now, he was still under scrutiny from the acting Chancellor. He supposed that’s what happens when you shoot an authority figure. Oh well.

Finn had already come to him to discuss a plan that involved stealing guns and embarking on their own rescue mission, since the adults had yet to make any progress. Bellamy was doing everything in his power to keep Finn from losing his cool; he could tell the boy was incredibly distraught, but there was something different about the way Finn was acting. Normally the teen was logical, level-headed and always in control of his emotions, but ever since the Dropship blast when they got separated from what remained of the hundred, Finn had become restless, certain that the delinquents were being held captive by Grounders. If he didn’t know any better, Bellamy would say Finn was obsessed with the idea; it seemed as though he hadn’t talked about anything else since they got to camp. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much either of them could do at the moment. The guards had been given direct orders not to let anyone leave the gates unless they were part of the search party. But with such little knowledge of the terrain and Grounder tactics, the adults were bound to either wind up dead or captured as well. Bellamy scrubbed a hand over his face. Maybe Finn had a point. He knew that he needed to focus on finding their friends right now instead of wandering helplessly around camp. After all, Murphy was safe enough under Jackson’s supervision, right?

He stepped through the main entrance of the space station into the crisp air and paused for a brief moment to enjoy the sweet, piney scent and refreshing breeze that accompanied autumn. The Dropship may have felt more like home, but at least in Camp Jaha there were fewer opportunities for the Grounders to attack, and Bellamy was able to appreciate the beauty of Earth a little bit more. He had to admit, it was rather liberating.

When Bellamy reached the part of the camp that housed their food, he ducked through the door and was happy to find that it was currently vacant. Although there was no strict regulating of rations down here like there had been on the Ark, he still didn’t want to draw any unnecessary attention to himself as he stuffed a few extra packets of wild berries in his pockets. He thought back to when the delinquents had just arrived on Earth and how ridiculously hungry they had been during the first several days. Few of the teens had any hunting skills, so they had to rely mostly on nuts and the occasional rabbit or boar for their sustenance. It had been Murphy who discovered a clearing not far from the Dropship that was surrounded by trees with small, dark-colored fruit growing in bunches. Monty later informed them that what they had found were mulberry trees, and the fruit was not only safe to eat, but also unbelievably delicious. Bellamy smiled fondly as he remembered lazing underneath the shade of the trees with Murphy, Atom, Roma, and Mbege. The group of misfits would make jokes and trade stories while they indulged on the sweet berries until their fingers and mouths were stained purple. Looking back, he was amazed at how simple things were then. Someone cleared their throat behind him, “Can I help you, Bellamy?”

Lost in his nostalgia, Bellamy hadn’t noticed Sinclair enter the room. He spun on his heel, ready to explain the completely logical reason his jacket pockets were overflowing with fruits and nuts, but the playful look Sinclair gave Bellamy put him at ease. He smiled wide. “Sinclair, hey. I was just getting some food for Murphy, he hasn’t eaten since we got to camp and he’s already skinny enough as it is; I don’t want him wasting away.”

Sinclair cocked a curious eyebrow, but the grin never left his face. “For Murphy? I thought you two weren’t exactly getting along.”

“Well, the punk sure doesn’t make getting along very easy, but I think I kind of like that about him,” Bellamy offered sheepishly, ducking his head a bit. He hadn’t known the engineer very well on the Ark, but Bellamy was aware of how close Sinclair was with Raven, so he figured he must be a pretty decent person, and Bellamy felt comfortable in his presence.

Sinclair nodded thoughtfully, giving Bellamy a knowing look, “Sometimes the ones who are a little rough around the edges are the ones worth keeping close, aren’t they?”

Bellamy smiled again. “I think you’re right, sir.” He nodded back, and turned to leave the room.

“Bellamy.” Sinclair caught his arm, his expression more serious now. “You’ve been in the medical wing recently, right? Raven…how is she doing?”

“She’s really strong, sir,” Bellamy reassured. He thought for a moment. “You raised her well.” The grin quickly returned to Sinclair’s face and he clapped a hand on Bellamy’s shoulder and headed off in the opposite direction. Bellamy grabbed a canteen and began to fill it with water, deciding he would tell Raven about their exchange on his way back to Murphy.

As he was rounding the corner on the space station that led to the medical wing and desperately attempting to balance the pile of food in his arms, Bellamy heard someone scream his name. The voice was unmistakable: Murphy was calling for him, and he sounded like he was in trouble. Without a second thought, Bellamy dropped the rations to the floor and took off down the corridor as fast as his legs could manage. He came upon the exam room and threw the door open, practically knocking it off its hinges. He skidded to a stop when he laid his eyes on Murphy, who, for some reason, was no longer on the exam table. At the moment, the boy was sprawled on the floor, eyes wide with fear. He was shaking, and Bellamy could tell by the blood on his sweatpants that his stitches had been torn open. Again. Jackson ran through the open door a few seconds later, nearly colliding with Bellamy, and dropped to the floor to help Murphy. Bellamy regained focus, mentally slapping himself for not moving sooner. He knelt on the other side of Murphy, grabbing his hand, and it took all of Bellamy’s willpower to not brush his lips against the boy’s knuckles. Instead, he settled for running a hand through Murphy’s soft hair. Bellamy wanted so desperately to comfort him, but he didn’t want to overstep his bounds either. He reminded himself that it wasn’t too long ago that he was ready to end Murphy’s life in order to “keep the peace” with the rest of the delinquents. An intense wave of guilt made it hard to swallow the lump that was forming in Bellamy’s throat. He finally gained the ability to speak, although his voice came out sounding a lot less certain than he wanted. “Murph?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don’t care what anyone tells me, the Original Misfits™ eating mulberries together is actually canon  
> also i love Sinclair


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the events of the last chapter, from murphy's POV
> 
> Hallway Man finally gets a name
> 
> warnings for some dubious content towards the beginning

As soon as Bellamy left the exam room, Murphy simultaneously felt slightly relieved and also somewhat uncomfortable. He may have seemed like a threat at first, but now that Murphy was injured, it was clear to see that Bellamy wanted him to be alright. The Rebel King, with his stupid hero complex. Wait, did that make Murphy a damsel in distress? He scowled and quickly pushed that thought from his mind. Either way, Bellamy’s concern over his well-being was making it a little easier for Murphy to relax, but with that bit of security now gone to find food, he felt rather vulnerable.

Murphy reclined on the cot with his arms crossed behind his head and let his eyes flutter closed. He might as well take advantage of his time alone right now and just enjoy the mental images of Bellamy taking care of him. Who knew how long it would be before they were at each others’ throats again…no pun intended. He thought of the way Bellamy had been at his bedside apparently all night, and indulged himself in remembering the way Bellamy’s shirt exposed some of his tanned skin when he stretched. Murphy decided he better not dwell too much on that, what with Jackson bound to arrive soon. He smirked at the idea of having to conceal a hard-on while the nurse checked the stitches on his leg and allowed himself a quick chuckle.

A couple minutes passed and Murphy heard footsteps enter the exam room. “Here to patch me up already, doc?” he questioned without bothering to open his eyes, figuring Jackson had arrived sooner rather than later.

There was a short pause and Murphy wondered if maybe the nurse hadn’t heard him, but then a deep and familiar voice sounded directly above him, sending shivers down his spine, “Not exactly.” 

Murphy’s eyes snapped open, and he was face to face with the guy from the hallway, who, unbeknownst to Murphy, had apparently sidled right up next to his table and was towering by his side, smiling so big he was practically baring his teeth. Oh god, oh god, oh god. Murphy’s heart was already racing and he made a vain attempt to scramble back from the man leaning over his body. In one quick motion, the guy pinned both of Murphy’s slender wrists above his head with a large hand. Murphy thrashed underneath his hold, trying to squirm free, but the man’s grasp only tightened in response and he was sure it would leave bruises. Murphy closed his eyes again, hoping that maybe this was actually just a nightmare. Yeah, just a really vivid, awful fucking nightmare and any moment now he would wake up and Bellamy would be here with him and he would have food and-

“Come on, baby,” the man crooned. His other hand was cupping Murphy’s chin now, and he couldn’t stop the pathetic whimper that escaped him. “Let me see your pretty eyes.” Murphy felt like he might vomit. 

Don’t do anything. Don’t say anything. Maybe he’ll stop. He’ll get bored and leave eventually, as long as you just _don’t look._ Murphy felt the hand being removed from his face and for a brief second he thought maybe his tactic was working. But when the hand encircled his throat instead, his eyes flew open, tears already forming at the corners. The man hummed in approval. “Oh, sweetheart, I missed those baby blues so much.” Murphy writhed against the grip and choked as he tried to plea with him, unable to form words. Just as blackness started to creep into Murphy’s vision, the hand lifted from his throat. He coughed and gagged with the sudden intake of oxygen and as the hand began to slide slowly up his torso, underneath his white t-shirt, Murphy finally found his voice.

“HELP!” He yelled, despite the ache in his throat. “BELLAMY! JACKSON!” His screams were so loud they hurt his own ears. “PLEASE, SOMEBODY H-” Murphy’s wailing was cut short as the hand clamped down over his mouth. 

The man looked around the room wildly. Murphy barely had time to register what was happening before he was dragged roughly off the exam table. He fell to the floor with a cry and pain started shooting through his leg. Furious, the guy growled and Murphy thought he might be killed right then and there. Much to his surprise, though, the man took a couple steps back and adopted a worried expression just in time for Bellamy to come barreling through the door. He immediately caught sight of the startled boy on the ground, bleeding again, tears streaming down his face. Jackson followed directly after, kneeling by Murphy’s side, and tried to assess the damage to his stitches. Jackson, making his voice as gentle as possible, explained, “I need to check your thigh, okay, John?” Murphy nodded absently and the nurse started his work. Bellamy was quick to crouch down on Murphy’s other side, entwining their fingers together and using his free hand to smooth the boy’s hair back. His face was beyond concern now; he looked horrified.

“Murph?” Bellamy gasped, trying to catch his breath, eyes searching Murphy’s for an answer.

It was as if everything finally hit Murphy all at once and he choked out a sob, lunging forward to wrap his arms tightly around the older boy’s waist. He was outright crying now, shaking, heaving breaths and trying to put his words together. “B-Bell,” he sniffed, and Bellamy’s heart broke. He needed to know right now what the hell had happened in the short time he was gone.  

“Damian, what in the world is going on?” Jackson was on his feet now, asking the only other person in the room to explain the situation before them. Bellamy hadn’t even noticed the guy when he charged in, too distracted by the damaged boy on the floor to pay attention to much else. Immediately he recognized the man from the hallway the day before. Bellamy glared, knowing the asshole had something to do with this.

The guy, Bellamy thought Jackson had called him Damian, appeared just as alarmed as the other two had only moments ago. He frantically looked from Jackson to Murphy and back, rushing his words together, “I-I-I don’t know! I heard that John was here recovering from a Grounder attack and I wanted to stop by and and see how he was doing. As I got to the door I heard him screaming and crying, but when I came in, he was already on the floor. It sounded like he was having a nightmare or something. I didn’t know what to do. I’m so sorry, I should have tried to find you right away. I was just too scared to leave him alone.” Damian’s voice wavered toward the end of his speech, and it seemed for a moment like he might start crying himself. He dropped to his knees in front of Murphy. “John, I was so worried about you.” Damian reached out a hand to mimic Bellamy’s actions from before, causing Murphy to flinch violently. Damian looked pained by the boy’s reaction, but Bellamy swatted his hand away and pulled Murphy further into his embrace.

“He isn’t recovering from a Grounder _attack,_ he’s recovering from the Grounders’ _torture,”_ Bellamy spat at the man. Who the hell did this guy think he was, anyway?

Jackson nodded slowly, trying to piece things together. “Damian, you said that it appeared as if John was having a nightmare? So you’re saying that he was asleep when you arrived at the room, correct?” Damian nodded, eyes still locked on Murphy. “Well, we do know that Mr. Murphy suffers from intense nightmares on a regular basis, which is to be expected after what he went through in the Grounder camp.” Jackson was silent for a minute, apparently considering his next decision. He turned back to Murphy, lowering himself to meet his eyes, and offered a soft smile. “John? I think it’s best if you stay here for a few days rather than in your own room so we can keep a closer eye on you. I don’t want you to end up hurting yourself again, all right?” Jackson’s eyes dropped momentarily to the stitches, and suddenly Murphy felt too exposed even though he was well covered in his t-shirt and a pair of borrowed sweatpants (which were now soaked through with his blood. Oops).

Murphy blinked, feeling dizzy. What the fuck was going on? He wasn’t having a goddamn nightmare, he was _assaulted._ When he realized he still hadn’t answered Jackson’s question, Murphy opened his mouth to protest, but after being choked, screaming at the top of his lungs, and crying uncontrollably, he found that he couldn’t force any words out. He just coughed instead, and looked expectantly at Bellamy, who sighed and nodded to Jackson, silently agreeing with the suggestion. 

Murphy’s heart started beating hard again. He couldn’t stay in this room; hell, he couldn’t stay on this _planet_ if Damian was here. He grabbed Bellamy’s shirt, panicked. “It’ll be alright, Murph,” Bellamy assured him, scowling at Damian before drawing the young boy to his body once more. “I’ll stay with you the whole time. I won’t let anything happen to you.” Murphy nodded against Bellamy’s chest and quickly became aware of just how fucking exhausted he was. His eyelids felt so heavy. With a nod from Jackson, Bellamy picked him up and carefully placed him back on the table, stroking his hair and reassuring him that he wouldn’t leave him alone. Murphy trusted Bellamy right now, and so he allowed himself to give in to sleep, but the last thing he saw before his eyes fell shut was Damian’s feral grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this chapter is so short! i'll try to make up for it by posting the next one sooner
> 
> Damian is an english name derived from latin Damianus, meaning "to tame, to subdue" and euphemistically "to kill" 
> 
> protective!Bellamy is my favorite Bellamy <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> can Murphy, like, finally stop sleeping i s2g

Murphy sat up on the table after what felt like hours, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He glanced around the empty exam room, feeling the familiar burn of betrayal in his throat when he realized Bellamy was nowhere to be found. He rolled his eyes emphatically at the discovery (definitely not just to suppress the tears that were threatening to form) and shifted his feet onto the cold floor, ignoring the way his stitches stung with the movement. Whatever, it was his own stupid fault for getting his hopes up; Bellamy had better things to do, obviously.

It took Murphy a moment longer than it should have to notice the eerie quietness around him; not to mention that it seemed to be far dimmer than a medical room should be. He chalked it up to Jackson’s diligent efforts to help him heal, knowing the nurse understood Murphy’s general distaste for people and had perhaps requested the room be quarantined for the time being. He made a mental note to thank Jackson later for the sentiment and headed for the exit, but Murphy stopped dead in his tracks when he caught sight of something dangling in the open doorway.

A wave of nausea washed over him as he examined the Dropship seatbelt, bright red and ominous, that had been fashioned into a noose. Murphy took a step closer, lifting a trembling hand to feel the fraying fabric, desperate to see if it was a hallucination. His fingers brushed against the material and Murphy doubled over, trying to stop himself from gagging. If this was someone’s sick idea of a joke, they were going to be in for a world of hurt…once he could breathe properly again. He shot one last glare at the offending object and turned to find another exit, but instead came face to face with a smirking Bellamy. Murphy’s stomach churned. Something about him seemed off. “Bell?”

Bellamy’s mouth split into a sharp smile, showing off two rows of teeth like pointed fangs. “ _Not exactly,_ ” the figure said without moving its mouth. Terrified, Murphy stumbled backward into another body and spun his head to see Jackson standing behind him. Except…it wasn’t quite Jackson, and he was bearing the same barbed grin as Not-Bellamy. Before Murphy could even entertain the idea of escaping, a set of hands was guiding him back to the doorway. “ _Come on, baby,_ ” Not-Bellamy coaxed as he and Not-Jackson forced the noose around Murphy’s neck. He struggled and thrashed against their grip, but to no avail. The red seatbelt bit harshly into his delicate skin as tears blurred his vision.

Suddenly, he was elevated, perched precariously on a dilapidated crate amid an endless sea of familiar faces, all with matching, hellish smiles. A few stood out from the rest - Mbege, Charlotte, his parents - as they grinned up at him, fangs glinting like knives in the low light. Murphy closed his eyes, praying to any deity that might be listening to let him live, promising that he’ll be better this time: warmer, kinder, not so hostile.

Not-Bellamy’s voice cut through his thoughts, “ _Let me see your pretty eyes._ ” Murphy shivered, unprepared to face this fate again. He knew he wouldn’t survive a second death sentence. There was a loud cracking sound as the crate was kicked from underneath his feet and then all he could focus on was the familiar, painful burn that accompanies a hanging. Murphy opened his eyes in his last few moments, locking stares with Not-Bellamy, inches from his face. The world in front of him began to twist and fade, but Murphy still heard his cruel laughter, followed by, “ _Oh, sweetheart, I missed those baby blues so much._ ”

Murphy gasped, sputtering into consciousness and immediately there were hands on both of his arms, but he couldn’t stop fighting, consumed by panic and pain and distorted smiles. He began to cough and gag uncontrollably, only managing to twist out of the person’s grasp in time to vomit off the edge of his cot. Tears and sickness mingled together as he realized he was crying again. God, he _hated_ crying. There was a soothing voice next to him, trying to calm him down. “I got you, Murph. You’re alright. I’m right here with you, just like I promised. Shhh…” Bellamy ran a comforting palm up and down Murphy’s spine, hoping some light contact would help bring him back into their reality and away from the monsters in his dreams.

Once Murphy’s body stopped shuddering and he was sure he wasn’t going to be sick again, he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and tentatively turned to face Bellamy. Murphy regarded him with caution, but a soft smile from the freckled boy had Murphy reminding himself that what he saw was just a nightmare, nothing more, and that Bellamy had stayed like he said he would. He swallowed thickly as he adapted to his surroundings.

Murphy’s throat was still sore, but he found speaking to be easier now that he’d had some time to rest his vocal cords. “Do you have any water?” he choked out, rubbing his eyes while he attempted to adjust to the bright light of the exam room. Bellamy reached for a canteen and pressed it into Murphy’s hands, and he gulped the liquid down greedily.

“Careful,” Bellamy cautioned, “don’t have too much too soon, you still haven’t had anything to eat or drink in a few days.” A few days? Jesus, Murphy had no way of knowing how long he had actually been at the camp since he’d spent most of his time asleep, but he didn’t think it had been _that_ long. When Murphy was finished with the canteen, Bellamy grabbed a towel and began to clean him up a bit, dabbing at the sweat that had gathered on his forehead and wiping any remaining vomit from his mouth. Murphy felt so juvenile being cared for like this, but he was grateful for Bellamy’s presence. He knew that he would be a complete mess if he was on his own right now. It took Murphy a moment to realize that Bellamy was holding his hand, running a thumb over his scarred knuckles. Bellamy smiled a bit and cocked his head. “You hungry?” Murphy nodded. “Good,” he continued, “it’s almost lunchtime. Roasted boar today, so we’d better get there before it’s gone. I brought you some clean clothes to wear. They, uh, might be a little big on you…” Bellamy trailed off as he handed over a black shirt and some gray sweatpants, the faintest hint of a blush spreading across his cheeks. 

Murphy examined the articles and smirked. “They’re yours, aren’t they?” he asked, voice still raspy.

“I hope that’s alright,” Bellamy said with a lopsided grin as Murphy quickly tossed his old shirt to the side and replaced it with the fresh one. 

The shirt swallowed him, but it was free from holes and smelled like Bellamy. “It’s perfect,” he declared, and it was. Murphy loved it. Bellamy beamed at him.

Murphy knew that changing his sweatpants would prove to be a more difficult task. Slowly, he scooted to the edge of the table and lowered his legs off the side, supporting most of his weight with his arms. Before his feet could touch the ground, Bellamy’s hands were on his hips, holding him steady. Murphy hoped that his face wasn’t as red as it felt. He coughed to hide his embarrassment and leaned back slightly, shifting the pressure onto his uninjured right leg. Bellamy was studying him closely. “Do you need a hand?” He wanted to make sure Murphy didn’t aggravate his stitches further, but he knew that offering to help the boy change might come across as patronizing. Or maybe just weird.

“Nah, I’ve got it,” Murphy stated coolly, praying his blush was gone by now. Bellamy hesitated for a second before nodding and turning around to give Murphy some much appreciated privacy. He struggled for a little longer than he should have, suddenly very aware that he was in his underwear just a foot away from _the_ Bellamy Blake. When he finally had the oversized sweatpants on, he huffed from the exertion and pulled the drawstring tight. “You can turn around now,” he muttered, fumbling with the string. His fingertips were still raw, the missing nails making it difficult to tie a decent knot.

Bellamy noticed his failed attempts and tried to hide a grin. “Here, let me.” He moved his hands to Murphy’s waist and before the boy could protest, Bellamy was expertly working the drawstring into a neat bow. His fingers brushed against the exposed skin on Murphy’s abdomen, making them both jump and turn their heads away from each other. Murphy cursed his overreaction. What was he, twelve? “So!” His attention snapped back to Bellamy, whose voice sounded an octave higher than normal. “Food time?” Murphy nodded again and smiled, grateful for the distraction.

The two boys paced slowly down the hall toward the cafeteria. Murphy had insisted that, no, he did _not_ need to be carried, and after some debate, Bellamy conceded (but not before making Murphy “pinky swear” that he would say something if his wound began to hurt too much). His leg wasn’t nearly as sore today, and Bellamy explained that after Jackson repaired the stitches, he managed to wake Murphy enough to have him swallow some painkillers, and that he shouldn’t need any more for a few hours. They finally strolled into the crowded lunch area and scanned the room for a place to sit. Murphy thought it was unusual that he still hadn’t seen any of the other delinquents besides Finn, Monroe, and Sterling since they’d arrived at camp, so he decided to ask Bellamy about it. “Hey, where’s Clarke and the rest? Weren’t they in the Dropship during the explosion? And what about Octavia?”

Bellamy sighed. “O escaped during the fight with Lincoln. I miss her like crazy, but at least I know she’ll be safe with him,” he said with a sad smile. Murphy wondered briefly what it would be like to have a sibling, but then he thought of Mbege’s notorious scowl and realized he already knew. Octavia was still alive, though, and that was more than Murphy could say about his brother. He quickly pushed the memory from his mind, not wanting to relive the heartbreak he felt when he heard about Mbege’s death. Bellamy continued, “We’re not exactly sure what happened with the others, but it’s likely that after they reopened the Dropship door, some rogue Grounders captured them. Kane’s been sending search parties out to explore the area every day; he’s even led a few of them. But, no word on their whereabouts yet.”

“Well duh,” Murphy scoffed, “it’s not like they would know where to look. Why haven’t _you_ been in those search parties? Out of everyone in the camp, you’d have the best chance at finding them.”

Bellamy shrugged. “Kane doesn’t trust me. I mean, now that he’s the Chancellor, I suppose he has to be careful around people who, you know, shoot Chancellors.”

Murphy knew the statement wasn’t meant to be funny, but he couldn’t quell the laughter that bubbled up inside him. Bellamy shot him a glare, but soon he was grinning and cracking up as well. They giggled for a good few minutes, receiving several strange looks. After catching their breath, the two eventually found an empty table to claim and promptly sat down. Bellamy made sure Murphy was comfortable, then went to fetch rations for both of them. When he returned, Murphy was pleased to find an extra serving of mulberries on his tray. He popped one in his mouth and closed his eyes, relishing the experience. “They’re your favorite, right?” Bellamy asked with a smile.

Murphy blushed, surprised that Bellamy had remembered something so trivial. “Yes. Whenever we had them during meals on the Ark my dad would give me his share,” he admitted. He recalled the time Alex Murphy spent ten minutes teaching his son how to toss the berries in the air and catch them in his mouth. Murphy felt the melancholy of nostalgia begin to creep into his thoughts and changed the subject. “They taste better down here, though. I think they’re sweeter when you can pick them from the tree yourself, y’know?” 

“Sounds like your father was a pretty great guy,” Bellamy offered, ignoring the question. It caught Murphy off guard. He nodded, swallowing around the lump in his throat. 

They ate in comfortable silence after that, hastily shoveling food into their mouths. Murphy tried to remember the last time he actually had a meal, but failed. He had never been this grateful for food before in his life. Bellamy finished first and was watching Murphy enjoy his berries (which he had saved for last, of course) when a thought crossed his mind. “Who’s Damian?” 

The bluntness of the question caused Murphy to choke on his food. He began to cough and Bellamy apologized, handing over the canteen of water.

Murphy took a drink from the bottle and ran a hand through his hair, distressed. He was amazed at how such a simple question could change his mood so quickly, and decided this really wasn’t the place to discuss it. “Bell…” he dropped his gaze to the floor and grew quiet.

Bellamy leaned over and gently lifted Murphy’s chin so that the boy was looking at him again. “Murph, I know something isn’t right about that guy. Please, tell me.”

Murphy studied Bellamy’s face for several moments, contemplating whether or not he could really trust him. But honestly, what choice did he have? No one else in this camp gave a damn about him, and even Bellamy’s false concern was better than nothing. After what seemed like an eternity, he sighed, “Alright. I’ll tell you. Just…not here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love Mbege and thinking about Murphy remembering him and being sad breaks my heart into a million pieces
> 
> but! more fun with berries!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a long one (yay) but also not very happy (i'm sorry)
> 
> trigger warning for descriptions of past rape
> 
> if you want to skip that section, stop reading at the 5th paragraph ("I woke up...) and pick up at the 7th paragraph ("He was gonna...)

They didn’t speak on the way back to the medical wing, the sound of their boots echoing through the corridor the only accompaniment on their trip. Murphy was an anxious mess already. What if Bellamy didn’t understand? Maybe he would be disgusted and leave. Murphy wouldn’t blame him, but he had no idea what he would do if that happened. Even just the thought of being alone without Bellamy’s protection was starting to make him feel lightheaded. Murphy lifted a trembling hand again, about to run it through his hair for the fifth time since they left the cafeteria (a nervous habit he had never learned to break), but Bellamy captured it and laced their fingers together. He allowed himself to relax the tiniest bit.

When they reached the exam room, Bellamy picked Murphy up without a word and placed him back on the exam table. Murphy felt a little bad when he noticed that someone had apparently been by to clean up his mess from earlier, but that thought quickly vanished when Bellamy took a seat next to him on the table, close enough for their legs to touch. His heart skipped a beat. “Just take your time, okay?” Bellamy soothed, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Murphy took a shaky breath and collected his thoughts.

“When I was young,” he started quietly, and Bellamy practically had to lean in to hear him, “really young, like eleven or so, before I went to the SkyBox, I used to spend time in Damian’s quarters a lot. Since my parents were Factory Station, they usually ended up getting stuck with extra shifts, and most nights they wouldn’t get back until midnight or later. My dad and Damian were pretty close friends growing up, and he was a guard, so they figured it would be best to have someone like him keep an eye on me when classes were out. I’ve always been a bit of a troublemaker, I guess,” he laughed bitterly, but Bellamy remained silent. Murphy continued, “Well, it was great at first. Damian would give me snacks, and we would play games or he would read to me. Sometimes we’d get to watch a movie if we were lucky. I always looked forward to going over there for the evening.

“But one night my dad called and said there had been a problem at the station, that he and my mom wouldn’t make it home until morning. He wanted to know if it would be alright if I slept there for the night. Damian said it was perfectly fine, that I was more than welcome. He would even let me sleep in the bed and he would take the couch. I was so excited because I had never spent the night in anyone else’s quarters before. My only friend at the time was Mbege, and my mom thought he was a bad influence, so she never allowed me to stay at his place. I figured it would be a fun evening, like always.

“I woke up in the middle of the night when I felt the bed move. I was confused, so I turned on the lamp and saw Damian was next to me. I was gonna ask if everything was okay, but before I could, he put his hand over my mouth and shushed. He said, ‘You’re so pretty, Johnny, you know that? Soft hair, soft skin, soft lips. And those big blue eyes. So, so pretty.’ I didn’t know what he was doing. I mean, they don’t talk about that kind of stuff in school. How the fuck could I have known? I tried to scream, tried to fight back, tried to get out from underneath him, but it didn’t matter. He was so much stronger than me…” Murphy shook his head and felt wetness on his cheeks. He scrubbed at the tears. “When he finished, he got mad. Said I shouldn’t have tempted him. That I was asking for it. He threatened to float my parents if I told anyone. So I kept my mouth shut.

“The problem in Factory Station only got worse after that. I had to spend more nights at Damian’s, and every time, I would wake up with him next to me, hand on my mouth or around my throat. I knew he wasn’t lying, though, when he said he could have my parents floated. I didn’t tell anyone, not my parents, not Mbege. I was too scared. But then the nightmares started and I couldn’t sleep, stopped being able to keep any food down. My dad thought I was sick, but when Jackson checked me over he said they didn’t find anything. Not that they would, of course. But I wasn’t getting any better and my dad got worried. He made an excuse to leave work early one night so he could come check on me. Damian must have forgotten to lock the door that day. My dad walked in, saw me on the bed, crying, with Damian on top of me. I had never seen my dad so livid.

“He was gonna go straight to Jaha and demand that Damian be floated, but the next morning the guards showed up to arrest my dad instead; turns out, Damian had stolen medicine and pinned it on him. Everyone knew I had been sick for a while and Damian was a respected member of the guard, so no one doubted the story. They killed my father for _nothing._ It didn’t take long for my mom to drink herself to death after that. I was eavesdropping on the council while they tried to decide what to do with ‘the orphan boy.’ They didn’t want to deal with finding a family to take in a problematic child with dead parents. That’s when someone suggested I just continue to live with Damian. When I heard that, I almost lost it. I couldn’t let that happen. So, before the decision was finalized, I snuck back while he was asleep and set his quarters on fire. I’d be arrested, and go to the SkyBox for a few years. I knew I would be floated for it once I turned eighteen; they probably wouldn’t even bother with the review, but being dead sounded better than having to spend another night with him.” Murphy wrapped his arms around his midsection, sniffling. “I didn’t find out what happened to Damian after that, but I never saw him the whole time I was in the SkyBox so I assumed he died in the fire. Wishful thinking, I suppose.”

Murphy had told the whole story facing forward, unable to bring himself to look at Bellamy. He didn’t want to see the pity on his face. But when he finally turned to Bellamy, Murphy saw that he was breathing hard, his jaw clenched and knuckles turning white. Was he angry? Murphy hadn’t expected a reaction like this. “Bell?” he asked. Before he knew it, Bellamy was up and out the door. Murphy scrambled to his feet and tried to chase after him, limping as fast as his leg would allow. When he caught sight of Bellamy again, he called out, “Bellamy, wait!” 

The panic in Murphy’s voice stopped him. He snapped his head to the left, growling over his shoulder, “That bastard has to pay for what he did to you, Murphy.” There was a fire in Bellamy’s eyes, and when Murphy reached him, he could see the muscles in his arms tensing.

“Bellamy. _No,_ ” Murphy pleaded. He put a hand on his stitches. The painkillers must have been wearing off because Murphy could feel his leg throbbing again.

Bellamy noticed his discomfort. “Go back to bed,” he ordered, but Murphy made no attempt to move.

“I won’t let you go, Bell. You can’t tell anyone. Kane and Damian have known each other their whole lives. Besides, who do you think people will believe? Two murdering delinquents or Chief Guard of the Ark? Try to do something about it, and you’re gonna get both of us killed.”

Bellamy stared angrily at him for a minute, nostrils flaring. He knew Murphy was right. Bellamy already wasn’t on good terms with the Chancellor, and accusing an esteemed authority figure of something like this without any kind of proof was dangerous. But he couldn’t ignore it either, especially not after the scene he witnessed with Damian yesterday. Bellamy rubbed his thumb and forefinger over his eyes, grimacing. When he finally spoke, his tone was gruff with unspent anger. “Murph. You’ve gotta tell someone. Someone who can actually do something about the situation.”

“Yeah, okay, Bellamy. Let me just locate one of the many adults around here who gives a shit about me and explain that the golden boy of space is secretly a rapist. I’m sure that will go over real well.” Murphy’s words dripped with sarcasm.

Frustrated, Bellamy threw out his arms and raised his voice slightly. “So what’ll happen when I’m not around, Murphy? What if a time comes that I’m not there to protect you? Because I can guarantee the _second_ that happens, Damian won’t hesitate to hurt you again.”

Murphy was desperate to stop talking about this, and Bellamy was almost yelling now. What if somebody heard them? He tried to keep from trembling as he flicked his eyes down the hall and whispered, “Bellamy, _please._ ”

Bellamy realized how loud he was being, and scolded himself for letting his emotions get the better of him. He took a step closer to Murphy and touched his arm lightly to ease some of his anxiousness. “I’m sorry for shouting at you. It’s just- I can’t stand around and do nothing. Murph, I…I would never be able to forgive myself if anything like that happened to you again.” Murphy’s eyes started watering, so Bellamy pulled him into a tight hug. After a few moments spent listening to each others’ breathing, Bellamy had an idea. He mumbled into Murphy’s hair, “What if you told Jackson?”

Murphy thought for a moment. Out of everyone in Camp Jaha, Jackson was probably the only person besides Bellamy that he felt comfortable around. It wasn’t a bad suggestion. But Murphy hesitated still. “I don’t know, Bell.”

“Jackson’ll understand. And I can’t be the only one that knows about this. If something happened to me and I wasn’t able to protect you…” Bellamy trailed off, the implications of his statement clear.

After a while, Murphy gave in. “Okay. But will you please be there with me when I tell him? I’m not sure I can do it alone.”

Relieved, Bellamy nodded. “Of course,” he said, taking Murphy’s hand, and the two boys headed back to the medical wing again.

Jackson smiled when he saw Bellamy and Murphy enter the exam room. He had arrived a couple minutes ago to change Murphy’s bandages and was waiting patiently for the boy to return, scribbling notes on a clipboard. Murphy wondered if his handwriting was as bad as Abby’s. “John,” Jackson began, but Bellamy cut him off with a wave of his hand. He knew that if Murphy was gonna do this, it was now or never.

The nurse raised his eyebrows, appearing slightly taken aback, and Murphy wanted to apologize for Bellamy’s behavior, but he was already explaining, “Jackson, Murphy needs to tell you something.”

Jackson looked between the boys and cocked his head. “Well, Mr. Blake, I’m sure Mr. Murphy can speak for himself,” he declared, and Bellamy dropped his gaze to the ground. Jackson’s expression softened as he turned to face the younger of the two. “Is something the matter, John?”

“Yeah, but uh…could we do this somewhere more private, maybe?” He glanced around the room. There were only a few people in the area at the moment, but Murphy didn’t want to risk having anyone overhear the conversation that was about to take place.

“Certainly,” Jackson said, smiling, “we can talk in Dr. Griffin’s office. She will be busy with patients for another hour or two.” He turned, gesturing for Murphy to follow. 

When they reached the office, Jackson ushered Murphy through the door but regarded Bellamy with some apprehension. The older boy puffed his chest a bit, ready to defend himself, but Murphy interjected, “It’s fine, Jackson. I asked him to come.” Jackson nodded and Bellamy brushed past him, joining Murphy as he eased himself onto a small couch, ignoring the discomfort of his stitches.

The nurse took a seat at a desk across from the boys, folding his hands. “Now, what did you want to tell me, John?” he inquired.

Murphy’s stomach was in knots. He looked uneasily over at Bellamy, who placed a comforting hand on his back. Murphy took a deep breath and, for the second time in an hour, recounted the details of his past with Damian. When he finished, he was sniffling again.

Jackson stood and walked around the desk, kneeling in front of Murphy and offering him a handkerchief. He let the boy take a second to collect himself before resting a hand on his knee and saying, “First of all, John, I need you to understand that what happened to you is awful, and absolutely in no way your fault.” He paused to let that sink in. “I am deeply sorry you had to go through that. Thank you for deciding to come to Bellamy and me for support. No one in your situation should have to suffer alone.” Bellamy nodded in agreement.

Murphy silently picked at the fraying edges of the handkerchief. When it was clear he wasn’t going to say anything, Bellamy asked Jackson, “So what do we do?”

The nurse sighed, “Well, that’s for John to decide. Of course, I would recommend you two take this matter to Kane so that Damian can be handled properly, but this is a very sensitive subject that John might not feel comfortable talking to the Chancellor about yet. Whatever you choose to do, John, Bellamy and I will support you completely.”

The idea of telling Kane and the rest of the council about Damian was overwhelming. Murphy felt nauseous again. “No,” he settled, “I don’t want to go to Kane.”

Bellamy was shocked. “Murphy, Damian needs to be locked up at the very least. He’s already tried to get to you once, who knows what will happen if-”

“I said _no,_ ” Murphy interrupted him with a shaky voice, wrapping his arms around himself. Jackson stood, placing a hand on Bellamy’s shoulder and motioning with his head for the other to follow. Bellamy obeyed and joined Jackson just outside the office, closing the door behind them.

Bellamy was sure he was about to receive a lecture, but Jackson’s voice was gentle. “I know that you care about John and want justice for what happened to him. And honestly, Bellamy, if it were up to me I would find the man myself right now and show him _exactly_ how I feel about his actions.” There was a hardness to his features that Bellamy had never seen there before. Jackson closed his eyes for a moment and took a breath to regain his composure before continuing, “But what John needs right now is someone to be there for him, no matter what. I’ll meet with him a few times a week for some counseling and hopefully he will eventually feel ready to take action against Damian. Until then, though, he requires your loyalty and compassion.”

Bellamy nodded begrudgingly. ‘Any means necessary’ had always been his automatic form of defense when it came to keeping the people he cared about safe, but he hadn’t really stopped to think about what Murphy might be feeling in regards to the situation. “I understand.”

Jackson relaxed visibly. “Good. Now, go comfort him.” He gestured toward the door, giving Bellamy a small smile. He re-entered the office to find Murphy sprawled lazily on the couch, playing with some sort of medical tool that he probably shouldn’t have in his possession. Bellamy smiled fondly to himself as he observed the boy’s curious hands fumble with the object before Murphy realized he was being watched.

“You girls done gossiping?” he teased. Bellamy ignored the taunt, choosing instead to crouch down next to him and place a hand on his leg. Murphy noticed Jackson’s convenient absence.

“You okay?”

Murphy rolled his eyes, but Bellamy could tell they were still watery and bloodshot. “I’m fine. Let’s just…not talk about it right now.” He paused and set the tool down, turning to face Bellamy. “I wanna do something to distract myself for a bit. Take my mind off all of this shit.”

Bellamy’s lip curled up in a devilish smile. “You like fire, right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry, i hate seeing Murphy suffer too
> 
> i wanted to write more about Mbege but this chapter was already getting really long, so i figured i'd tell you here: when Mbege found out that Murphy was put in the SkyBox, he purposefully got himself arrested so they could be together because he's that kind of friend <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bonfire bonding! Murph and Bell finally interact with other people

Bellamy approached the bonfire with Murphy at his heels. The pit where it sat was surrounded by a few logs that were arranged to be used as seats. It had become a sort of unspoken, designated hangout for the few delinquents in camp and they would gather there every night after sunset; without any adults around, they were free to enjoy the sense of familiarity of being around their own people again, if only for a little while. At the moment, Raven and Finn were sharing a log, heads propped in their hands, appearing less than interested in whatever story Sterling was telling from his spot on the ground next to Monroe. When Finn caught sight of them, he happily diverted his attention to the pair. “Hey, guys, haven’t seen you around much! What’s up with that?”

“Oh, you know. Very important business; top secret, of course,” Bellamy offered with a smirk. Murphy smoothed back his hair, attempting to emit his typical, indifferent vibe.

“Right,” Finn chuckled. Since Clarke had returned to camp, the boy was back to his normal, pleasant self. Bellamy was grateful for that, at least. It was one less thing he had to worry about.

“Seems like the two of you have been spending an awful lot of time together lately,” Raven said, eyeing Murphy.

“Yeah, I guess,” Bellamy admitted, gesturing toward the younger boy. “He kinda grows on ya.”

“Like a fungus, maybe,” she scoffed, emphasizing an eye roll. Murphy shifted uncomfortably.

Bellamy grit his teeth to keep from retaliating. He wanted there to be as little discord as possible within their misfit family, especially considering how small it was for the time being. Thankfully, they were interrupted by someone calling from a few feet away, “Well, look what we have here!” But when the figure got close enough to the light of the fire for Bellamy to realize who it was, he felt anything but thankful. Damian sidled up to the circle, claiming a seat next to Raven on the log. Bellamy placed a steadying hand on Murphy’s shoulder, noticing that the boy looked about five shades paler than normal.

“You all enjoying the warmth?” Damian asked, and the four teens hummed their approval. He gave Raven a slight nudge and a fond smile. “How’s my favorite mechanic?”

The corner of her mouth quirked up as she nudged him back. “Not bad. How’s my _least_ favorite Chief Guard?” Damian feigned hurt, clutching his heart.

“Pretty sure he’s the only one, Rae. Guess that makes him your favorite _and_ least favorite,” Sterling teased with a grin.

“Check it out! Logic of steel, that one. I’m glad at least _someone_ around here has my back,” Damian laughed.

Bellamy was speechless. He couldn’t for the life of him understand why the others were being so damn _friendly_ with this guy. Bellamy knew they didn’t have the insight he did, but the delinquents hadn’t warmed up to any of the adults like this. Why was it different with Damian?

Murphy’s shoulder was impossibly tense under Bellamy’s palm. It was clear that he was trying to keep cool, but Bellamy couldn’t even imagine the dread he must have been experiencing. He turned to Murphy and took a step closer to him so that they wouldn’t be heard by the others and whispered, “Murphy, come on. Let’s go somewhere else.”

“It’s okay, Bell,” Murphy responded with a shake of his head, but Bellamy didn't miss the way his voice wavered. “If we don’t stay, they’ll know something is wrong and I really don’t want anyone asking me about it. And I definitely don’t want them asking _him_ about it.” Bellamy was about to argue that it didn’t matter if it looked weird, that they should just leave, but Murphy was already pulling him to a log on the opposite side of the bonfire. In the lambent glow of the flames, Bellamy finally noticed patches of mottled skin snaking out from beneath Damian's sleeves and over the backs of his hands. He wondered how he missed the scars before.

“So, Raven,” Damian started again, rubbing his palms together for warmth, “how’s the beacon coming along? Sinclair was telling me about your idea to use helium for it; I’m pretty sure the word he used was ‘genius.’”

Raven’s face lit up. “It’s going great, actually! Once Wick can get off his ass and actually get me the parts I need, our radio frequencies will be flawless.”

“I had no doubt that you would think of something. ‘Spose that’s why they say you’re the best mechanic around,” Damian declared. Raven shrugged, smiling at the ground, never one to take the credit she deserved. He shifted his gaze to the pair sitting criss-crossed on the dirt. “You two excited for training tomorrow?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah, we are stoked!” Sterling affirmed, Monroe nodding eagerly beside him.

Finn cocked his head in question. “Training for what?”

“Combat! Damian’s gonna teach us more about shooting, the proper way to hold a knife, and where you should target someone if you only want to injure them versus if you want to kill them. We’ll finally get some practice with a real guard!” Sterling exclaimed. Bellamy stiffened, feeling insulted despite himself. When Sterling noticed, he ducked his head sheepishly. “Not that your lessons weren’t great, Bellamy. It’s just that Damian’s had a lot more experience.” Bellamy only grunted in response.

Damian turned his attention to Finn. “Hey, how’s Clarke doing? I’m sure she was relieved to find you alive after what went down at the Dropship.” An easy smile found its way to Finn’s face. Ugh, not him too. Why were his friends being so sociable with the man? Bellamy was growing more irritable by the second.

“She’s recovering. Escaping the Mountain Men was rough for her, but she hasn’t stopped planning a way to get everyone else out of that place. You know how she is,” Finn responded, pushing some of his too-long hair behind his ear.

Damian nodded. “Speaking of Mount Weather,” he continued, “don’t you think you should be helping Clarke with that task, Bellamy?”

Too busy stewing in his anger, Bellamy was taken by surprise when he heard his name. “Excuse me?” he asked, furrowing his brow.

“I just thought since you two were sort of like leaders to those kids before the Ark came down that maybe Clarke shouldn’t have to be dealing with the burden of rescuing them by herself,” Damian accused. Well, Bellamy couldn’t be completely sure it was an _accusation_ per say, but it sure felt like one.

“Well, Damian, I’ve been a little _busy,_ actually,” Bellamy fired back. His statement sounded more aggressive than he originally intended it to, but he didn’t regret it.

“You’re right, you’re right. I know you’ve been helping Johnny recuperate. My apologies,” Damian replied, holding up his hands in mock defense.

“ _Johnny?_ ” Raven jeered.

Bellamy opened his mouth to tell Damian exactly where he could shove his apologies, but Murphy’s icy glare and callous voice had the smiles slipping from everyone’s faces as he interjected, “It’s ‘Murphy’ now.”

“Well I think we’re a little closer than that, don’t you?” Damian displayed a sharp grin, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He didn’t miss the hint of a shudder that passed through Murphy. But neither did Bellamy.

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be, _sir?_ ” Bellamy quipped, exaggerating the title as he inched closer to Murphy, which didn’t go unnoticed by a curious Raven.

Finn was casting confused glances between the two men. “Bellamy…”

“No, no, he’s right. Keeping this camp safe from the savages is a never-ending job, after all, but an important one as well. You kids don’t stay up too late, alright?” Damian stood, and walked by Murphy on his way to the gate, ruffling the boy’s hair as he passed. Murphy flinched from the unexpected contact, earning him some perplexed looks from the other teens. 

“Okay, mind telling the rest of us what that was all about, Bellamy?” Raven was on her feet now with her hands on her hips, demanding an explanation.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bellamy sighed, eyes glued to the fire. The last thing he wanted was an interrogation from Raven about his unusual behavior.

“Like hell you don’t! What’s your damage? You may not like authority, but at least Damian gives a shit about us. That’s more than can be said for the other adults here.” She turned, directing her anger at Murphy. “And what about you, ‘Johnny?’ You couldn’t have been a bigger asshole if you tried.”

“Screw you, Reyes,” Murphy countered, but his words were quiet and lacking their usual snark.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she argued, narrowing her eyes, “is that Damian’s special pet name for you? Or does Bellamy get to call you that, too?”

Murphy immediately felt sick from her implication. He tried to form an insult, something that would effectively validate her hatred toward him for good, but Bellamy was quicker to react.

“Go to hell, Raven,” he spat, voice hostile. He hoisted Murphy to his feet and guided him away from the circle.

After a moment of stunned silence, they heard a frustrated Raven yell, “Are you _kidding me?_ Ugh!” Soft sounds of Finn attempting to calm her down drifted around the crackling fire.

Once they were a good few yards away from the others, Bellamy consoled, “I’m sorry, Murph. Raven wouldn’t have said those things if she knew what Damian is actually like. You know that, right?”

“I’m not upset with her. Honestly, she’s got a good reason to hate me. I hoped maybe we could reconcile someday but I think I just added a lot more fuel to the fire instead,” Murphy said with a melancholic shrug.

“Raven’s just hotheaded. She’ll come around,” Bellamy reasoned. He hoped he was right. “But more importantly, are you okay?”

“I’m a little shaken up is all. Thanks for defending me, Bellamy.”

“It was noth-” Murphy silenced Bellamy with a hand on his chest.

“I mean it. Protecting me from Damian is one thing, but standing up to Raven on my behalf is something entirely different, since you guys are actually friends. That couldn’t have been easy for you.”

Bellamy stared back at the boy. He had never allowed himself to pay much attention to Murphy’s physical features before, deciding early on that developing feelings for any of the hundred would cause too many problems. But now, it was like Bellamy was seeing him for the first time. Murphy’s milky white skin practically glowed under the moonlight. The sharp angles of his nose, jaw, and cheekbones were unusually stunning, and he had the bluest eyes Bellamy had ever seen.

His gaze lingered for a second too long on Murphy’s mouth and the way the boy’s lower lip was caught between his teeth; it was almost painful to look away. For once in his life, Bellamy was at a loss for words. He snapped back to reality when he heard Murphy’s anxiousness. “Bell?”

He cleared his throat but his voice was husky when he spoke, “Well, I care about you.”

After a moment of silence, Murphy surged forward, pressing his lips against Bellamy’s in a chaste kiss. Bellamy was shocked, but remained still, transfixed. The connection was gone as quickly as it came when Murphy pulled back, an apology already spilling out of his mouth. “I-I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I just…please don’t be mad, Bellamy, it won’t happen again. I’m so-” he was cut off as Bellamy put a hand on the back of his neck, drawing him in for another, deeper kiss. When he finally felt Murphy’s body relax, Bellamy sucked on his lower lip, which was now swollen and red. Murphy pushed his tongue into the other’s mouth and Bellamy heard a moan, but he blushed as he realized that the sound had come from him. He broke the kiss first, placing their foreheads together, a smile creeping onto his face. “Wow,” Murphy breathed, the two of them lightly panting.

Bellamy turned to head back toward the Ark, chuckling, “Come on, let’s get you to bed. It’s been a long day.” Murphy hesitated. He hadn’t told Bellamy yet that Jackson had finally cleared him from medical. “What’s wrong?”

Murphy kicked at the dirt idly while he explained, “Well, Jackson decided since I’m not a danger to myself anymore that I don’t have to continue sleeping in the exam room. But I don’t really have my own place or anything, I mean I…what?” Bellamy was grinning from ear to ear, and unless Murphy missed something, he was pretty sure having to sleep outside wasn’t a reason to be happy.

“Murph, Jackson already talked to me. He suggested that the two of us just share a room. It makes the most sense, I’ve already been sleeping by your table every night and this way I’ll be able to keep an eye on you without waking up stiff as hell,” Bellamy joked.

“Oh,” Murphy blanched. He hadn’t been expecting that. “Well, um. Are you sure you’re okay with that? What about-”

“We just had our tongues down each other’s throats. Do you really think I’m gonna mind sharing a room with you?” Bellamy was still smiling, and Murphy couldn’t help but smile back at him.

“Okay. Thanks, Bell.”

“Of course. Now come on, I’m freezing my ass off,” Bellamy laughed, and gestured for Murphy to follow him.

They reached the room a couple minutes later, but both boys were shivering by the time they got there. This particular room was just big enough for two twin beds with a decently-sized nightstand situated between them against the wall opposite from the door. Each bed had a fur blanket and lumpy pillow, but it was better than anything they’d slept on back at the Dropship. Still not used to the coldness of Earth, Murphy trembled and rubbed his hands together as he kicked off his boots. Bellamy guided him to the bed on the right side of the room, pulling the blanket down and motioning for the boy to get in. Normally Murphy would have felt silly, but he happily slid underneath the fur and hid a smile when Bellamy laid it over him and smoothed his hair back. Bellamy was used to doing the same for Octavia.

Despite the warmth from the covers, Murphy’s teeth continued to chatter. Bellamy frowned and felt the boy’s cheek with the back of his hand. “Jesus, Murph. Your skin is like ice!”

Murphy turned to face the wall and suppressed another shiver. “Nah, ‘m fine. Jus’ needa warm up a bit s’all,” he mumbled, eyes already closed. He heard Bellamy rustling around and assumed he was changing. Murphy suddenly felt a weight next to him on the small mattress and the familiar sensation made his stomach churn for a second, but when he looked over his shoulder to see Bellamy with the other fur and pillow gathered in his arms, he settled. “What’re you doing?”

“Do you want me to sleep next to you for the night? We’ll have two blankets that way, _and_ you can absorb my warmth. I have plenty to spare.” Bellamy flashed a dorky grin at him. How could anyone say no to that face?

“That’d be nice,” Murphy replied, scooting over to give Bellamy enough room to crawl in behind him. Once they were finally situated, Bellamy wrapped a tentative arm around Murphy’s waist.

“Is this okay?” he asked gently, and Murphy nodded his approval, drifting off to sleep shortly thereafter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little bit of fluff to go with all this angst
> 
> i’m sorry Raven is kind of bitchy in this chapter. don’t worry, there are better interactions on the horizon
> 
> i also apologize for giving Monroe zero speaking lines, but she doesn't strike me as the talkative type
> 
> sidenote: i did extensive research on grit vs. gritted but it was pretty much inconclusive so


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and now, for the smut we've all been waiting for

Murphy awoke the next morning with a gasp. He bolted upright in bed, breathing heavily from whatever nightmare he’d been suffering through this time, startling a groggy Bellamy, who was sprawled half on top of him. Bellamy’s voice was rough from sleep as he groaned, “Hmmm?” Not fully aware of his surroundings yet, Murphy flinched from the noise, which caused Bellamy to snap to his senses. He sat up quickly and carded his fingers through Murphy’s hair, speaking calmly, “Hey, it’s just me, Bellamy. You’re in bed in our new room, okay? I got you.”

Murphy’s heartbeat returned to normal as memories of the conversation about their new sleeping arrangement resurfaced. He took a couple deep breaths and nodded, letting Bellamy know he was alright. When he had calmed down sufficiently, he reclined and curled toward Bellamy (who had apparently taken his shirt off at some point during the night, not that Murphy was complaining), nuzzling into his side. Bellamy placed a strong arm around his shoulders and gave the lightest squeeze. Suddenly, images of last night’s kiss appeared in Murphy’s mind and he felt his face get hot. Did he really kiss Bellamy Blake? And had Bellamy actually kissed him back?? Murphy snuck a peek at his face, and found that Bellamy was watching him fondly. He blushed harder. “Uhm. Good morning,” he said quietly.

“Mornin’,” Bellamy mumbled, smiling. _Fuck,_ his sleepy voice was sexy. Apparently there wasn’t a single thing about Bellamy that wasn’t perfect. Murphy huffed.

“Nice bedhead,” he teased, reaching a hand up to play with Bellamy’s dark, unruly curls.

“Don’t make fun of me, it’s too early!” Bellamy whined. “I’m vulnerable when I’m tired.” He stuck out his lower lip in an exaggerated pout. Murphy felt an overwhelming urge to bite that lip, but he restrained himself. Maybe last night was a fluke. Bellamy had probably forgotten about it already.

They spent the next several minutes with Murphy snuggled against Bellamy’s warmth and Bellamy drawing patterns with his finger on Murphy’s arm. Then Murphy stretched and yawned, making a high-pitched noise in the process, and suddenly Bellamy was…he was _giggling._ “What’s so funny?!” Murphy snapped.

“It’s just…that was so cute!” Bellamy managed between laughs. Embarrassed, Murphy decided he had to get even. Without a second thought he dug his fingers into Bellamy’s ribs, tickling them across his torso.

The older boy roared loudly, gasping for air, and pleading for mercy. “No, stop! Murphy! Please, that’s not fair!” he howled, thrashing around but still careful not to hurt the other. Bellamy grabbed Murphy around the waist and rolled both of them so that the boy was sitting atop him now, legs straddling his midsection. Murphy felt his heart race as he looked down at Bellamy’s half-lidded gaze. Slowly, Bellamy ran a hand up Murphy’s back, behind his neck, and gently pulled him forward to capture his lips with his own. Murphy shuddered, and Bellamy smiled into the kiss. Without thinking, Murphy began to glide his palms over Bellamy’s defined arms and chest, mapping his body, trying to commit to memory exactly how every rise and fall of muscle or bone felt under his fingertips. Murphy wanted to live in this moment forever.

The kiss, which started off simple and sweet, gradually became sloppier as their desire increased, teeth and tongues clashing in a battle for dominance. Soon, Bellamy was rolling his hips up while Murphy trailed kisses along his jaw, across his clavicle, down his chest. He flicked his tongue over each of Bellamy’s nipples, and the older boy groaned, putting a hand on Murphy’s lower back to hold him in place and grinding up once more, particularly hard. A loud moan escaped Murphy’s lips, and that was all Bellamy could stand. In an instant he wrapped his arms around the boy and flipped them over so that Murphy was lying supine beneath him, and Bellamy was between his legs. “Is this fine?” He asked, breathlessly. Murphy nodded eagerly, unable to form words. “Good.” He smiled, and pressed their mouths together again.

He nibbled at Murphy’s lower lip while expertly removing the younger boy’s shirt. Murphy dragged his fingers down Bellamy’s exposed back, leaving long, red marks in his wake. Bellamy growled and latched his mouth onto Murphy’s right collarbone, sucking and biting just hard enough to make Murphy squirm. When he released, Bellamy sat back on his haunches and examined the blooming hickey, which stood out in stark contrast against the boy’s translucent skin. He traced his eyes over Murphy, admiring his dilated pupils and swollen lips. Murphy propped himself up on his elbows, questioning, “Why’d you stop?”

Bellamy reached out and stroked his thumb across Murphy’s bottom lip. “Just enjoying the view,” he drawled. Murphy blushed at the compliment. Grinning, Bellamy dropped his head to Murphy’s stomach and began peppering his abdomen with delicate kisses.

Murphy wiggled beneath him. “That tickles, Bell!” he laughed, writhing around on the mattress. Murphy went silent when Bellamy planted a single, long kiss low on his pelvic bone and locked eyes with him.

The corner of Bellamy’s mouth quirked up. His deep voice was rich and velvety when he hinted, “Tell me what you want.”

Murphy’s stomach flipped. What did he want? He had been too focused on feeling and experiencing and savoring, not thinking. He swallowed and whispered, barely loud enough for Bellamy to hear, “I want _you._ ”

That was all Bellamy needed. He smirked, and dove down to mouth at Murphy’s growing erection through his sweatpants. The boy closed his eyes and allowed his head to loll back, another moan escaping him. Bellamy adjusted his position so that he could remove Murphy’s pants, careful to avoid his stitches, and toss them to the floor. He noted that Murphy’s arousal matched his own: cock stiff, precum already glistening at the slit. But Bellamy was only focused on Murphy’s pleasure right now. He wanted to make the boy feel good for a change.

Murphy sank back on the bed. He couldn’t believe what was happening. Everything seemed hazy and surreal, almost like he was dreaming. But Murphy never dreamt of anything good nowadays, so he happily accepted this as reality. Lost in sensation, he hardly registered Bellamy’s words. “Let me know at any point if you want to stop, okay?” Murphy hummed absently to let Bellamy know he understood, but it wouldn’t be an issue; he _never_ wanted Bellamy to stop touching him.

The older boy licked a long stripe from the base of Murphy’s length to the tip, flicking his tongue across the head to lap at the sticky, salty precum gathered there. Murphy gasped, balling his fists in the blanket underneath him. Bellamy repeated this action several times until Murphy was whining. He then wrapped his hand around Murphy’s cock and started stroking slowly while he kissed and sucked at the boy’s hips. “Bellamy,” Murphy groaned, desperate for more. Hearing Murphy say his own name with such need sent a jolt of arousal straight to Bellamy’s groin. He picked up speed, pumping quickly and enjoying the lustful whimpers he got in return. 

When Murphy began to arch his hips, Bellamy placed a hand on his stomach to still him and took the thick cock in his mouth, sucking hard and bobbing his head impossibly fast. “Oh god,” Murphy choked, tangling a hand in Bellamy’s curls. His motions were exactly the right amount of rough: lips curled tight around Murphy’s length, teeth lightly grazing the sensitive skin, tongue swirling around the head every time he lifted up, just the way Bellamy liked it himself. After only a few minutes of this, Murphy’s legs were quivering, and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. Murphy stuttered, “Bell, I’m…I’m gonna…” Bellamy pushed his head down further so that Murphy’s cock was hitting the back of his throat. Murphy made a strangled noise as he climaxed, cum filling the other’s mouth. Bellamy swallowed around him, Adam’s apple bobbing, and pulled off slowly, allowing the boy to adjust.

Murphy felt calm, but also something more than that. Euphoric, maybe. He smiled lazily at Bellamy as he moved to lay on his side next to Murphy, pulling the fur back up over their bodies. Murphy rolled over and cupped Bellamy’s face, kissing him without finesse, enjoying the fact that he could taste himself on the other’s tongue. Bellamy chuckled against his lips, and wrapped an arm around Murphy’s waist, drawing him to his chest. Murphy peered up at him through his bangs. “What about you?” he asked. He could feel Bellamy’s erection against his leg. “I can-”

Bellamy shushed him, “Shh. I’m fine. I just wanna focus on you right now.”

Murphy shrugged. “You deserve something too, though.”

“You know what’ll make me happy?” Murphy cocked his head in question. “Just lay here and cuddle with me awhile. That’s what I want,” he explained, placing a kiss on top of Murphy’s head. The boy grinned and snuggled further into Bellamy’s embrace, succumbing to post-orgasm bliss. They remained that way for some time, listening to each other breathing, when a knock at the door startled them both and nearly caused Bellamy to tumble off the bed. They looked at the clock, which read 4:54 AM, and shared a confused glance, wondering who would be at the door this early. Bellamy stood, hollering, “Just a sec!” while Murphy pulled the covers up over his head and pretended to be asleep.

The older boy yanked a shirt on and ran a hand through his tousled hair in an attempt to make it appear like he hadn’t just been doing something that he _definitely_ shouldn't have been doing. He opened the door and was surprised to find Jackson on the other side, smiling, and far too chipper for 5am. “Good morning, Mr. Blake,” he greeted. “Sorry if I woke you. I’m here to change John’s bandages and give him his medicine.”

Bellamy thought about the hickeys he’d given Murphy a little bit ago. “Actually, Jackson, he finally just fell asleep. Nightmares, y’know. Why don’t you leave the supplies and when he wakes up I can take care of it,” Bellamy offered, hoping the nurse would agree.

Jackson looked at the Murphy-shaped lump on the mattress for a moment, then back at Bellamy. “I suppose that’s fine. Make sure you clean it thoroughly though, an infection is the last thing he needs. And see that he has something to eat, along with a full eight ounces of water when he takes the painkillers.” Bellamy nodded as Jackson handed everything over. “I’ll be back in a few hours to check on him again.” Jackson turned to leave, then paused. “Oh, and one more thing.”

“Sir?” Bellamy asked, facing the nurse.

Jackson glanced back at the young boy on the bed, then locked eyes with Bellamy, an empathetic look on his face. “Be careful.”

“Of course.” Bellamy understood exactly what he meant. Jackson may have been unassuming, but he wasn’t naive. The nurse departed, and Bellamy closed the door. From his spot under the blanket, Murphy grumbled something that Bellamy couldn’t quite make out. “Come again?”

Murphy shifted, poking his head out from the fur. “I said you’re a shit liar,” he repeated with a smirk.

“Am not!” Bellamy defended.

“You _so_ are,” Murphy snorted. “How much you wanna bet I’ll be getting a ‘safe sex’ talk from Jackson later? Thanks a lot.”

“Shut up, Murphy,” Bellamy joked. He grabbed the bottle of painkillers, twisting off the cap and handing two to Murphy along with his canteen. “Here, take these, but be sure to drink all of that. We can go get some breakfast after I change your bandage. They’re serving fresh berries and nuts again today!” Bellamy’s face lit up, and Murphy couldn’t help but smile back at him. He seemed so innocent right now with his huge grin and messy hair. It was hard to imagine this was the same person who’d had Murphy’s dick down his throat not even twenty minutes ago.

“Sounds good,” Murphy sighed. He thought for a moment, and then added, “Thanks, Bellamy.”

Bellamy furrowed his brow in confusion. “For what?”

Murphy shrugged one shoulder. “For everything, I guess.” Bellamy smiled again and leaned over to kiss him on the forehead before starting on his stitches. Murphy decided he could get used to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why does Bellamy always know what’s on the menu, you ask? because he’s fuckin obsessed with food
> 
> also the safe sex talk with Jackson was about as awkward as everyone was expecting it to be, just so y’all know


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry it took me a little longer to post this chapter, for some reason i couldn't get it quite right. but this is as good as it's going to get so here you go.
> 
> trigger warning for attempted sexual assault

After breakfast, Bellamy ushered Murphy back to their room to rest longer. Murphy may have been cleared from medical, but Jackson had been adamant about not letting him be assigned to work detail yet; his wounds weren’t healed enough for any strenuous activity. Murphy pouted the whole way back. It wasn’t that he wanted to work, necessarily, but he also wasn’t looking forward to lying awake in bed all day waiting for Bellamy to return. The older boy was feeling more and more guilty about his inaction concerning the other delinquents, so he decided he’d spend the day with Clarke to construct a game plan for retrieving their friends from Mount Weather. Murphy knew Bellamy was needed elsewhere, but that didn’t mean he had to be happy about it.

“I don’t see why Kane can’t help the princess instead. Isn’t that his job as Chancellor?” Murphy whined. His pace was unbearably slow as he tried to prolong his last few minutes with Bellamy.

“Normally, yes, but he’s apparently trying to be an ambassador of sorts right now,” Bellamy explained. “I heard he took a Grounder prisoner with him to speak to the Trikru Commander about a peace treaty or something. The whole situation sounds like a disaster waiting to happen, if you ask me.” Murphy nodded along as they arrived at their room, only half paying attention. Politics had always bored him. Bellamy recognized Murphy’s silence for what it was, though, and shoved the boy lightly, grinning. “Are you even listening?”

“Yeah, yeah. Self-Sacrificing Kane, Angry Grounder Leader, Imminent Death. What’s new?” Murphy smirked.

A playful look crossed Bellamy’s face and Murphy didn’t have time to react before the other had him pinned against the door with his own body. Bellamy leaned down, kissing the side of Murphy’s neck. He mumbled something that included the word ‘punk,’ but his voice was full of affection. Murphy spun his head to the left and right, scanning the hall for anyone that might witness their compromising position. “Bell, what if someone sees?”

Bellamy pulled back, looking more than a little confused. “Would it bother you?”

“No,” Murphy corrected, diverting his eyes to the floor, “I figured it would bother _you._ ”

Bellamy lifted his chin and pressed their lips together pointedly. Murphy melted into the kiss. After a few seconds, Bellamy broke away, placing his forehead on Murphy’s and holding his gaze. “Do I seem bothered?” he asked. Murphy simply smiled and kissed him back in response.

They finally parted and Murphy entered their room, slumping back against the door as he tried to quell the butterflies in his stomach. He knew that this was all temporary; with Octavia gone, Bellamy needed someone to take care of, and since Murphy was currently in physical danger and emotional pain, he supposed he was an obvious choice. Once the other teens were rescued and things returned to pseudo-normal, Bellamy would come to his senses. He wondered briefly if maybe a part of Bellamy secretly wanted this from the beginning too, but Murphy had learned a long time ago that hope was impractical and you’d always end up disappointed. Oh well. When it came to Bellamy Blake, he would take what he could get.

Murphy started to change, but only got as far as removing his shirt before a knock at the door had him jumping in surprise. Bellamy must have left something behind. Murphy smirked and opened the door, a teasing insult about Bellamy’s forgetfulness on the tip of his tongue, but he was greeted instead by a hand on his chest forcing him backwards into the room. Murphy’s stomach dropped as Damian stepped into the space, closing and locking the door behind him.

“Hey there, Johnny. Nice little room you got yourself, here,” Damian noted, scanning the surroundings. Murphy edged away from him until his back was flush against the dresser. “Now how does a delinquent like you land a place like this, hmm?”

“W-what are you doing here, Damian?” Murphy stammered, ignoring his question.

Damian dramatically put a hand on his own chest, pretending to be insulted. “Can’t a guy just spend some quality time with an old friend?” he asked.

“A guy? Yes. You?” Murphy scoffed, “I don’t think so.”

Damian opened his mouth to retaliate, but he caught sight of the dark bruise of a hickey on Murphy’s collarbone. Anger flashed across the man’s face and Murphy swallowed, knowing that whatever was about to happen, it wasn’t going to be good. “What the fuck is that?” When Murphy didn’t respond, Damian roughly grabbed his forearm, causing him to yelp. “That Blake kid has been fooling around with you, hasn’t he?” he growled. Tears stung Murphy’s eyes as he tried to free himself from the man’s hold.

“P-please, Damian, stop!”

“Did you let him fuck you? Huh? Or did you suck his dick and let him cum in that pretty mouth of yours?”

“No! It’s just a bruise, I-I swear I didn’t do anything! _Please!_ ” Murphy begged, and the tears began to flow freely down his cheeks. 

Damian tightened his grip, sneering, “Don’t lie to me, Johnny. We both know you’d drop to your knees for any guy that gave you the time of day. Isn’t that right, you little whore?”

Murphy let out a sob, unable to form words anymore. Damian released his arm, only to shove him to his knees a moment later. He didn’t have a chance to react before the man grabbed a fistful of hair at the nape of his neck and tugged, forcing Murphy to look up at him. “Now, you’re gonna demonstrate for me exactly what you did for that boy.” 

Damian began to unbuckle his belt as Murphy whimpered useless pleas, choking back the bile rising in his throat. Suddenly he was eleven again, paralyzed and helpless, being forced to submit to the predator that plagued his nightmares for years. Across the room, the doorknob rattled and Jackson’s concerned voice could be heard from outside. “John? Is everything all right?”

Before Murphy was able to speak, Damian clapped a hand over his mouth and bent down to whisper in his ear, “Say anything and you’ll fucking regret it.” Murphy didn’t respond, but the look of panic in his eyes must have been answer enough for Damian because the man was already fixing his belt and striding toward the door. He opened it only slightly, blocking Jackson’s view, and greeted the nurse. “Hello, Jackson. What brings you by here?” 

Jackson raised an eyebrow. “I could ask you the same thing, Damian.”

“Johnny and I are just catching up, we haven’t had a chance to talk much since he got to camp.” Damian offered a friendly smile completely unlike the animalistic ones that only Murphy witnessed.

“Well, I’m here to change John’s bandages and give him his medication, so I will need you to step aside, please.”

Damian tensed almost imperceptibly. “Oh, you can go ahead and just leave the stuff with me, I’ll be sure to take care of it. You’re probably pretty busy down in the medical ward.”

“That won’t be necessary. Dr. Griffin has everything under control at the moment. Now, excuse me,” Jackson said, brushing past Damian. Murphy was still on the floor, and when Jackson caught sight of him he dropped to his side without hesitation. “John, what happened?” Damian began to fake a reason, but Jackson interrupted, holding up a hand, “I’m not asking you, Damian.” He turned his head back to Murphy, waiting for an answer.

From behind Jackson, Damian shook his head slowly, causing a chill to run down Murphy’s spine. He lowered his gaze, mumbling an excuse. “It’s fine, I just fell.”

Jackson furrowed his brow, helping the boy to his feet and onto the bed. Damian chuckled, “You know our Johnny, he never was one for grace.”

The nurse spun to face him. “Damian, I think it would be best for you to leave,” he warned. 

The sternness in Jackson’s voice took the other man by surprise, and he blinked dumbly for a second before arguing, “I don’t see any reason for me to go.” He crossed his arms.

“Well, I’m sure Chancellor Kane will be thrilled to hear that his Chief Guard has been spending time away from his post while on-duty,” Jackson countered, taking a step toward Damian.

The two men held each other’s stare, the air thick with tension. After what seemed like ages with Murphy glancing between them, Damian finally sneered a half-smile at Jackson, relenting, “Fine, I’m going. See you around, Johnny.” He exited the room, and Murphy breathed a sigh of relief.

Jackson turned back to Murphy. “Are you all right, John?” Murphy only nodded. He didn’t trust himself not to start crying if he tried to talk just yet. Jackson made sure Murphy’s stitches were intact and replaced the bandage with a fresh one. He motioned to the bruise on Murphy’s collarbone. “Did Damian do that?” 

Murphy shook his head. “No, he didn’t have a chance to hurt me. Thanks to you, that is,” he added, offering Jackson a hint of a smile. Murphy wasn’t good at showing gratitude, but at least he was making an effort. 

Jackson returned the smile and placed a comforting hand on Murphy’s knee. “I wanted to talk to you about that, actually. It was simply by chance that I passed your room on my way to the medical wing and heard you yell. I may have been able to intervene this time, but it isn’t safe for you to be alone right now, John. Especially since Damian is still in a position of power, it’s easy for him to get away with things that he shouldn’t, such as leaving his post in favor of roaming the camp and ‘socializing’ with the public. If it’s all right with you, I would like to talk to Kane about having a guard assigned to be with you when Bellamy is unavailable.”

“Wouldn’t that be suspicious? I don’t want Kane asking too many questions about why I need to be protected.”

“Well,” Jackson hummed, pursing his lips, “I could tell the Chancellor that it’s for the safety of everyone else, instead of you.”

A mischievous grin spread across Murphy’s face. “You mean like _I’ll_ be the dangerous one?”

“If that will make you feel more comfortable.”

“Oh yeah,” Murphy nodded emphatically. “Sign me the _fuck_ up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jackson is the hero we need and deserve
> 
> i'll try to have the next chapter up within a couple days, and it's definitely going to be longer :)
> 
> thanks again to everyone who has been reading this fic, i love you all!!! <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this chapter ended up having to be shorter because the next one is going to be quite a bit longer, but at least this one is happy!
> 
> enjoy <3

“Seriously? A danger to the public?”

Bellamy placed his hands on his hips as he surveyed the new arrangement, and although he tried to come across as disapproving, Murphy could see the smile playing at at his lips.

“What can I say?” Murphy said with a smirk, “It’s not my fault you have a thing for bad boys.”

“You? A bad boy?” Bellamy snorted loudly, earning him an elbow to the ribs. The guard that had been appointed to keep a watchful eye on Murphy stepped forward in warning, but Bellamy waved a dismissive hand. “It’s fine, I’ve got it from here.” With a curt nod, the guard spun on his heel and headed for his post at the main gate. Bellamy plopped down at the lunch table next to Murphy and shook his head, black curls bobbing back and forth. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Unbelievably handsome.”

“You’ve got me there,” Bellamy agreed with a smile.

Murphy bit his lower lip to keep from grinning like a teenage boy with a crush. And, well, he technically was, but that didn’t mean he had to _act_ like one. He decided to change the subject. “So, how’s the Mount Weather plan coming along?” As soon as the question left his mouth, Bellamy let his head drop to the table with a loud _thunk,_ groaning dramatically. Murphy stifled a laugh. “That bad, huh?”

“Even with help from the Grounders, until that acid fog is disabled, we’re basically sitting ducks. What good is an army if we can’t use it?” Bellamy grumbled as he grabbed his canteen.

Murphy noticed that the older boy looked like he hadn’t slept for days. Which, in all honesty, he probably hadn’t. Murphy offered his best sympathetic face and propped his chin on Bellamy’s shoulder, softening his tone as he asked, “Will it make you feel better if I suck your dick?”

Bellamy choked on his water and attempted to catch his breath between coughs and fits of loud laughter, causing more than a few heads in the cafeteria to turn their way. Although he hadn’t meant it to be funny, Murphy smiled anyway, glad that he could at least make Bellamy happy for the moment. “You’re so charming,” he chuckled as he wiped tears from his eyes.

“I’m serious, Bell. You’ve made me feel good.” Murphy scooted closer to Bellamy and lowered his voice. “It’s my turn to please you.”

A smile slowly spread across Bellamy’s face. He reached a hand over to tuck some of Murphy’s hair behind his ear and pulled him in for a kiss. When they parted, Murphy noticed groups of Arkers and Grounders alike staring at them from around the lunchroom with varying levels of curiosity, but Bellamy didn’t seem to mind. “I would love that,” he sighed, adding, “but only if you’re sure you want to.”

Murphy’s face suddenly became very serious, and Bellamy was worried that perhaps he had said something offensive, but Murphy clarified, “Bellamy Blake. If you couldn’t tell that I’ve wanted to suck your dick since we first landed on this godforsaken planet, then you’re dumber than I thought you were.” He smirked cockily when Bellamy’s eyes widened in surprise.

“You did? Really?”

“The fact that I just called you dumb didn’t even register in that thick head of yours, did it?”

Bellamy rolled his eyes, feeling his cheeks flush slightly, and grinned. “Shut up, Murphy.”

Murphy leaned close to Bellamy’s ear, hot breath ghosting over his freckled skin making Bellamy shudder, and whispered, “ _Make me._ ”

Bellamy never knew he could get so hard so fast.

The trip back to their quarters took twice as long as it should have, but Bellamy couldn’t resist stopping every other minute to pin Murphy up against any available surface and cover him in kisses, too eager to wait until they reached the room. Murphy was vaguely reminded of the cheesy romantic comedies they used to watch for movie night on the Ark, but he smiled into the kisses anyway. 

During one particularly heated moment where Bellamy almost abandoned his sense of decency, wanting to strip Murphy of his clothing right there in the hallway, Clarke rounded the corner and caught sight of Bellamy before she noticed anything else. Startled, he whipped his head around when he heard her voice. “Bellamy, I’m glad I found you. Kane and I were going to- oh!” She stopped short as she looked up from the map she was holding and saw that Murphy was trapped between a surprised Bellamy and a closet door, eyes wide and face flushed. Clarke brought a hand up to her mouth, clearly flustered, but her eyes were twinkling with barely-contained laughter. “Sorry! Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” A giggle slipped from between her lips as her skin turned bright pink. She gestured to the map. “This can wait, I’ll just…leave you to it.” Clarke offered the pair an understanding nod and retreated around the corner as Murphy thumped his head back against the door in exasperation.

“Great, we’re never gonna live that one down,” he whined.

“Oh come one, Murph. I’m sure it won’t be that bad.”

Murphy opened his mouth to argue but they could already hear Clarke’s faint giggling and hushed whispers from a few yards away as she undoubtedly relayed the story to some poor, unsuspecting soul. He cocked an eyebrow. “You were saying?” Instead of responding, Bellamy smiled sheepishly and pecked Murphy’s lips once more before lacing their fingers together and pulling him down the hallway.

When they finally got to their door, Bellamy backed Murphy into the room, tugging impatiently at his shirt as he nibbled on the boy’s earlobe. The back of Murphy’s knees hit the bed and he sat on the mattress, looking up at Bellamy with an anxious grin. Bellamy swiftly removed his shirt and was about to join him on the bed, but Murphy stopped him, placing his hands on Bellamy’s hips. He stilled immediately, afraid he’d gone too far, and caressed the side of Murphy’s face, concern evident in his voice. “Is something wrong?”

“No! No, of course not, I just want to…um…” Murphy blushed as he shifted to the floor, propping himself on his knees at Bellamy’s feet. “Like this,” he finished shyly, biting his lip. Bellamy’s heart skipped a beat as he looked down at Murphy’s flushed cheeks, enjoying the beautiful image before him. It was like a dream come true.

“God, you’re incredible.”

Murphy hid an embarrassed smile as he made quick work of removing Bellamy’s belt and unzipping his pants. His hands shook with anticipation as he freed Bellamy’s impressive length from his boxers. Bellamy ran his fingers through Murphy’s soft hair, inhaling sharply when he felt him place a delicate kiss on the tip of his cock. Soon, the wet heat of Murphy’s mouth enveloped him, and Bellamy was pleasantly surprised at how much Murphy was able to take in.

Bellamy groaned as Murphy began to bob his head, relishing the adorable choked noises the boy made while Bellamy’s cock hit the back of his throat. Murphy hummed in satisfaction and Bellamy shivered, feeling the vibration throughout his shaft. He closed his eyes and bit his lower lip, using all of his energy to focus on not thrusting further into Murphy’s mouth. When he reopened his eyes, his breath hitched as he realized Murphy was peering up at him through his lashes, expression full of lust. Murphy reached tentatively for Bellamy’s hand, guiding it to the back of his head, and intertwined Bellamy’s fingers in his hair. He tugged experimentally, eliciting a lewd moan from Murphy, which caused his cock to twitch in excitement. Murphy nodded as he sucked, insinuating that he wanted Bellamy to continue. He pulled a little harder and growled.

Murphy slipped a hand down his sweatpants and started stroking himself, desperate to relieve the aching throb of his own erection. Bellamy began moving his hips, keeping a firm hold on Murphy’s hair as he thrust gently. A blush started to creep out from beneath the collar of Murphy’s t-shirt, spreading up his neck as he pumped faster. When his moans became more frequent and noisier, Bellamy felt his own orgasm building, tingling through his body. He groaned, and huffed out a breathy “Murph,” before the younger boy gripped Bellamy’s thigh hard with his other hand, pushing himself forward so that Bellamy’s cock was as far down Murphy’s throat as it could go. Murphy simultaneously worked his throat and sucked as he jerked himself a few more times, finally coming in his pants, but it was his muffled whimper that pushed Bellamy over the edge. “Murphy, fuck,” he grunted, as he shot his load into the other’s mouth. The boy swallowed and pulled off with an obscene pop as Bellamy remembered to untangle his hand from Murphy’s hair.

Bellamy pulled Murphy unceremoniously to his feet, capturing his lips in a clumsy kiss before collapsing with him onto the mattress, panting. Murphy observed Bellamy out of the corner of his eye, all tousled hair and glistening skin and utter perfection. Bellamy crossed his arms behind his head and turned to face him with a huge grin plastered on his face. “Wow,” he breathed.

A small smile graced Murphy’s lips as he curled against the older boy’s side. Bellamy toyed absently with Murphy’s tangled locks for a few minutes, contemplating if there was any possible way he could convince Murphy to let him braid his hair, but suddenly Murphy pushed away from him and sat up, locking eyes with Bellamy. He was about to ask what was wrong, when Murphy blurted, “Are we friends?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he looked like he wanted to take them back, dropping his gaze to where his fingers were distractedly fiddling with the edge of the blanket. Bellamy furrowed his brow.

“Yeah? Aren’t we?” There was a confused smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “We share a room, eat lunch together every day, hang out when I’m not working…we’ve sucked each other’s dicks. I think that kinda qualifies, don’t you?”

Murphy wanted to kiss that stupid, smug smile off his face. He settled for rolling his eyes instead. “What I _meant_ was, what’s gonna happen when everyone else gets back? When the Rebel King and the Princess inevitably save the day and rescue the helpless and such.”

Bellamy sat up, growing more serious. “What are you talking about, Murph?”

“I mean, I know this is like…” Murphy trailed off and waved a hand between their two bodies ambiguously. “Convenient. Or whatever.” He shrugged, disregarding the vaguely hurt expression on Bellamy’s face. “But what about when the others return? Are we still going to be friends? Or does everything go back to the way it was before?” He could see Bellamy’s jaw clenching and unclenching. 

“Is that what this is to you? Convenient?”

Murphy blinked for a moment, surprised at the hard edge to Bellamy’s voice. “What? No, I just…I thought that-” Murphy cut himself off with a frustrated huff as he closed his eyes. He swallowed around the lump in his throat before continuing, “I figured once things are normal again, there won’t be any reason for you to waste your time with an outcast like me.” He looked back down at his hands, uncomfortable with the raw candor of vulnerability.

Bellamy gently lifted his chin, forcing Murphy to meet his eyes. The distress had vanished from his features, replaced with an easy fondness. “You’re not an outcast. Besides, what makes you think I don’t want this just as much as you do?”

“Because you’re smart and charming and brave and gorgeous and I’m…” Worthless. Destructive. Cruel. _Broken._ “You know. Murphy.”

Bellamy was well acquainted with the self-deprecating expression the younger boy wore. Empathy bubbled up in his chest, causing him to lean forward and kiss Murphy softly. Bellamy pulled back just barely and whispered against his lips, “You’re so much more than that, John.”

Rolling off of Bellamy’s tongue like a secret, like a promise, his name had never sounded more perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i started a second job so i haven't had as much time to focus on writing, but i promise i will update as soon as possible! i'll try to have the next chapter done by the end of the month. thanks again for reading!!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> whoo! an update!
> 
> just a heads up, parts of this chapter might be upsetting to read. if you're sensitive to any kind of sexual assault/non-con/rape/etc, i'd recommend maybe skipping this one. it gets worse before it gets better.
> 
> alternatively, you could stop reading at "None of your business..." and pick up at "Just as Murphy had finally..."
> 
> on the plus side, this chapter also has some (probably grammatically incorrect) Trigedasleng! translations will be in the end notes <3

Murphy sauntered over to the nearly-deserted bonfire with a cup of moonshine, a scowling guard, and a guarantee from Bellamy that as soon as he could, he would ditch the meeting with the Mount Weather Rescue Squad in favor of snuggling up to his boyfriend. 

Boyfriend. They had made it official the night before, when Bellamy asked Murphy if he would ‘go steady’ with him. Murphy had promptly laughed and called him a nerd ( _"What, are you from the 1950’s or something?"_ ), which Bellamy happily accepted as an enthusiastic ‘yes.’ Murphy was still giddy about the title, but he would take that particular confession to his grave.

He claimed an empty seat and began idly poking at the firewood with a charred stick, enjoying the way the sparks launched into the air before fizzling out against the dark canvas of the night sky. The guard, who was noticeably younger than the others Murphy had dealt with so far, sat awkwardly on the opposite end of the log from him, caught between trying to do his job and trying to avoid hovering behind the delinquent all night. He balanced his rifle in his lap without taking it off, thumb resting on the safety. Murphy spared a glance at the man- well, _boy_ , really. He appeared unnecessarily uncomfortable in Murphy’s presence: too restless, too austere. Anxiousness and guns was a combination that almost never ended well. Murphy rolled his eyes with a noisy sigh. He couldn’t believe he was about to make small talk with this dude, but, “How long have you been on the guard?” he asked, aiming for curious.

The boy looked at Murphy with wide eyes, then over his shoulder like there must have been someone else for Murphy to address, then back at the other’s bored stare. His brow furrowed in confusion as he pointed to his own chest. “Me?” 

“Yeah, you. See anyone else around in a uniform?”

“Should I be talking to you?” he questioned warily. When Murphy only cocked an eyebrow in response, the guard continued, “Aren’t you, like, dangerous or something?”

Murphy bit back the desire to play into that idea with some degree of regret. Goddamn _right_ , he was dangerous. But, he supposed the boy was already intimidated enough, no use in alarming him further. After all, he was the one with a gun, and possibly an itchy trigger finger. Instead, Murphy snorted, “Some people seem to think so. Don’t know how much damage I could really do right now, though, with my leg all fucked up.” He patted his stitches for effect. “Why, you scared of me?” He smirked when the guard instinctively straightened his shoulders.

“No! I just…don’t want to be distracted is all.”

“Sure.”

They sat in silence for a couple minutes, Murphy stoking the fire, before the boy spoke up again, quieter. “Is it true that you killed someone?”

He stilled momentarily, surprised by the straightforwardness of the question. Murphy didn’t necessarily feel guilty about Connor and Myles, even now, but with everything that had happened since their first week on the ground, it almost seemed like a different lifetime. He shrugged, mumbling, “They tried to kill me first.”

The boy’s eyes widened in astonishment. “Why?”

Murphy half-smiled, deciding to change the subject. “Shouldn’t you at least tell me your name before I reveal my tragic backstory?”

The guard ducked his head sheepishly and wiped his palm on his trousers before thrusting it in Murphy’s direction, leaning over a bit to accommodate the distance between them. “Sorry. I’m Bevyn.”

Murphy shook his hand, wondering when that stupid formality would finally die out, and replied, “Murphy.”

“I know.”

“Right, my reputation precedes me,” Murphy said dryly. “Great.”

Bevyn gave a faint smile, removing his rifle and placing it on the ground at his feet. “If it makes you feel any better, you don’t seem too bad to me.”

“Thanks, I think,” Murphy chuckled incredulously, shaking his head as he turned back to stare at the flames, Bevyn following suit with a lopsided grin. If anyone had told Murphy he would make a friend while discussing his criminal past, he’d have laughed in their face. But, here he was.

The tranquility of the moment was cut short when Murphy heard Raven’s accusing tone. “Been dating Bellamy less than twenty-four hours and you’re already flirting with someone else?” He clenched his jaw as she stepped into his line of view, arms crossed. Murphy saw Bevyn flush at Raven’s comment, even in the amber glow of the bonfire. Striding up angrily like any delinquent looking for a fight, the mechanic stared down at him accusatorially. “You don’t deserve him.”

Murphy was more than aware of that fact, but he stopped himself from agreeing; he wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction. He pushed himself to his feet so that he was eye-level with Raven, feeling anger pulsing hot through his veins. “Listen, Reyes. You don’t get to talk shit about everyone else’s relationships just because Spacewalker cheated on your sorry ass with Clarke.” Murphy noticed his cheek was stinging before he even realized that Raven had slapped him. He swallowed hard as he trained his cutting glare on her.

Bevyn scrambled to stand up, grabbing for his rifle on the way, so far out of his element. He shouldered the gun and took a step closer to the pair with his hands splayed out in a placating manner. Murphy noted that his voice was a little more unsure than before. “Hey guys, let’s just take a second to calm down. None of us wants any trouble, right?”

“Wrong,” snapped Raven as she held Murphy’s gaze. She was obviously waiting for him to make his move, to retaliate. After a long, tense moment, he closed his eyes and huffed, stomping off in the other direction towards the tree line instead. Bevyn tried to stop him, gripping his forearm.

“Murphy, wait-”

He wrenched his arm away violently, practically seething, “Unless you wanna hold my hand while I take a piss, I suggest you let me fuck off for a minute.” Bevyn looked apologetically down at the ground where he was toeing his boot in the dirt. Murphy felt a little bad about lashing out at him, but, in his defense, that was probably the nicest reaction he could have had, given his temper.

Murphy found himself in a small, secluded clearing just beyond the fence of Camp Jaha. He scrubbed at his face with an irritated sigh, attempting to get his rage back under control. It wasn’t _his_ fault that Raven’s boyfriend was an asshole. And, okay, maybe he shouldn’t have brought up such a sensitive subject, but he’d already been on the receiving end of too many jealous glares and muttered insults since word got out that he and Bellamy were an item; Raven was just the first person to actually confront him about it, and he couldn’t help taking out his frustration on her. He pushed his hair back from his face, resolving to find Raven and apologize once they’d both had a chance to cool off.

Murphy was just about to relieve himself when he was suddenly struck by the uncomfortable sensation that he was being watched. He swiveled his head around just in time to see a few figures emerging from the shadowy concealment of the tree line. His stomach churned when he realized that they were Grounders, and they were looking at him like he was their last meal.

The group approached Murphy, mumbling words in Trigedasleng that he assumed were probably insults. He turned to head back to the bonfire, figuring he could find somewhere else to take a piss, but stumbled forward when a hand shoved him from behind. “Hei, skai-twicha! Ai mema yu in. Yu don ste honon kom ai stegeda. Chit ste bilaik natrona gon yu kru?”

Murphy grit his teeth, temper flaring once again. As badly as he wanted to throw the first punch, three to one weren’t the kind of odds he preferred. Not to mention that Jackson would have a fit if he tore any of his stitches during a fight. Instead, Murphy smirked and shook his head. “Sorry man, I don’t speak Grounder.”

The guy on the left narrowed his eyes, pointing a finger at Murphy. “Ai don sin dison in kom gona Belomi. Emo don smuch choda op,” he laughed. Murphy felt his face heat up. He may not know the language, but it wasn’t hard to tell that they were talking about him and Bellamy. The other two traded perverse smiles.

Mr. Shove-y took another step forward. He was close enough for Murphy to smell the bitter panther meat they’d had for dinner on his breath. “Ah, em laik op-spuna?” The Grounder pushed Murphy’s shoulder hard enough to send him sprawling backwards onto the dirt. He tried to scramble to his feet, but before he could, he felt the unmistakable sensation of ribs cracking as the third Grounder kicked him, and he collapsed back on the earth.

“Fuck off!” Murphy screamed. He knew he wasn’t well-liked, but he didn’t think people would be trying to hurt him _all the fucking time_.

“Em no ste yuj thau em shila,” sneered the Grounder who had said Bellamy’s name. How the hell was Murphy supposed to know what he did to piss these guys off if he couldn’t even understand them? “Gon raun, skat!”

Murphy ducked his head beneath his arms as more blows landed across his body, trying desperately to hold back tears. He pleaded in what little Trigedasleng he had figured out from his time in captivity. “Hod op! B-beja!” A foot hit Murphy’s abdomen, knocking the wind out of him. “Stop it, please!” he coughed, gasping for air.

There was a sound like the zap of electricity, and then the beatings ended. Murphy flinched away from the noise, hands still covering his face. He remained on the ground for a few moments before tentatively raising his head to see what caused the reprieve. Through the darkness, he could barely make out the bodies of the three Grounders lying unconscious nearby. Confused, Murphy scanned the area until he noticed the all-too-familiar spark of a shock baton approaching him, but he was unable to tell who was wielding it. Murphy reared back, too broken to stand properly, and started begging again, “No, please, I-I don’t know anything, I swear. Beja, _beja!_ ”

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay,” the figure soothed. “You’re safe now.”

Murphy tried to adjust to his surroundings as flashbacks from his torture mingled with the scene in front of him. He squeezed his eyes shut and knotted his fingers in his hair, tugging at the follicles, reminding himself for what felt like the thousandth time that he was in Camp Jaha, he wasn’t being held captive anymore. As his heartbeat slowed, Murphy lowered his shaking hands and opened his eyes to see who had subdued the Grounders. Damian towered over Murphy, extending a hand to help him up. Murphy accepted hesitantly and only whimpered a little when he was abruptly yanked to his feet. He pressed delicately against his ribs, trying to figure out exactly how many were broken, wincing with every touch. He counted at least two. “Jackson’s gonna be pissed,” he muttered.

“You shouldn’t be out here by yourself, Johnny. Thanks to those friends of yours and their peace treaty, the camp and these woods are crawling with savages now. It’s a good thing I found you in time, you could have been killed.” Damian put his hand on Murphy’s shoulder, but the boy shrugged it off immediately. “What were you doing out here anyway?”

“None of your business,” Murphy snapped. He wasn’t about to take advice from a psychopath. 

He moved past Damian toward the path that led out of the clearing, making a mental note to not wander off like a _fucking idiot_ in the future, but Damian’s grip on the back of his collar stopped him. He pulled the boy gruffly toward his body and growled in his ear, “Sweetheart, you _are_ my business,” then shoved him up against the closest tree. Murphy squirmed as the bark scraped his already bruised and battered chest. Damian leaned into Murphy’s back, allowing his hands to wander underneath the boy’s shirt and skim the exposed flesh above his waistband as he continued, “And now, you’re gonna thank me for saving your life.” Murphy could feel Damian getting hard against his ass.

“Let me fucking go, you creep!” Murphy thrashed and reached a hand behind himself in an attempt to claw at Damian, but the man caught his arm easily and pinned him again.

“Tsk, tsk. You sure have gotten mouthy over the years,” Damian scolded as he spun Murphy to face him, grabbing his other arm. Murphy felt something cold on his wrists, and then heard the metallic _clink_ of handcuffs as Damian secured his hands together in front of him. His heart dropped. The guard smoothed his thumb across Murphy’s lower lip and hummed, “I wonder what else that mouth does.”

“It bites,” growled Murphy, jerking his head away. “If you don’t let me go, I’ll tell Kane that you’re a rapist.”

“Oh? And how’s that?” Damian grinned wide, all sharp teeth and self-assuredness. “I’ve already got you cuffed, all I would have to do is make something up about you stealing my shock baton and fighting those Grounders. In fact, I happen to recall that you’re now a ‘danger to the public,’ according to Kane. Besides,” he added, leaning closer, “if you were going to turn me in, you would have done it by now.”

Murphy felt dizzy. This really was it; Damian finally had him alone and Bellamy wasn’t here to protect him and it was his own stupid fault for wandering off in the first place and for refusing to go to Kane sooner. He had no one to blame this time but himself. Damian pressed his lips to Murphy’s hungrily as he ground his erection against the boy’s hip. Murphy gagged, swallowing back bile, and tried to reason with the man one last time. “Damian, please, I’m _begging_ you. Please don’t do this.” His voice was just above a whisper and tears had begun to blur his vision.

Damian chuckled, “Baby, you’ll know what _real_ begging is by the time I’m done with you.” The guard slipped his hand down the front of Murphy’s sweatpants and his breath hitched as Damian palmed his dick. The man stroked slowly while keeping Murphy pinned to the tree with his other arm and after several seconds, much to his horror, Murphy felt his dick start to harden. Adrenaline from fear and guilt and pleasure conflicted inside Murphy, making him nauseous and sensitive all at once. He began to feel a sickening heat pooling low in his abdomen as Damian quickened his movements, sucking at the skin on his neck. “You like that, don’t you?” he mumbled.

Murphy ground his teeth together. “No, you fucking asshole.”

Damian cupped Murphy’s chin roughly. “Your body begs to differ,” he laughed, then closed the distance between their mouths, biting at Murphy’s lower lip and forcing his tongue down his throat. 

Murphy whimpered against Damian's mouth as he tightened his grip and soon Murphy was gasping while he climaxed, despite his efforts not to. “Fuck,” he breathed as his body slumped, exhausted from struggling and from the orgasm. “Please, stop,” Murphy pleaded weakly, dropping his head in defeat, feeling betrayed by his own body. Tears of shame and self-loathing stained his cheeks.

“Looks like you made a mess.” Damian lifted his hand, which was covered in cum, to Murphy’s face. “Clean it up.” Murphy shook his head violently, clamping his mouth shut. He was already humiliated enough, he wasn’t going to do… _that_. Damian sighed loudly, “It either goes in your mouth or on your face. Up to you.” Murphy glared, extending his tongue begrudgingly to lick at Damian’s hand, but before he could, the guard thrusted three fingers into Murphy’s mouth. “Suck,” he demanded. Murphy obeyed, crying softly. After a moment, Damian removed his fingers and dragged the back of his hand across Murphy’s face, wiping off the rest. He laughed at Murphy’s expression, which was a mixture of shock and disgust. Murphy felt himself being flipped around again and Damian pressed his chest against the tree with one hand as he fumbled at his belt with the other. Murphy writhed underneath his hold as a last, desperate attempt to escape, but it didn’t matter. Damian had always been bigger and stronger and meaner than Murphy; he had no advantage against the predator.

Just as Murphy had finally given up the little bit of remaining hope he had, he heard a familiar voice behind them. “What the hell?”

He whipped his head around and caught sight of Raven standing a few feet away, straining to see what was happening in the dark. Murphy’s heart leapt into his throat. “Raven! Oh my god, please-” Damian suppressed Murphy’s cries with his palm and turned halfway towards Raven, smiling casually despite the situation.

“Hey there, Rae. How’s my favorite mechanic?”

She ignored his question and motioned to Murphy instead, furrowing her brow as she stepped closer. “What are you doing to him?”

“Johnny? Oh, I caught him fighting with those Grounders over there.” Damian gestured toward the bodies with his head. “I was trying to take him back to the Ark so we could keep him in solitary for the night, but this one doesn’t go easy, huh?” he chuckled. Murphy frantically shook his head, fresh tears stinging at his eyes, and struggled to speak through Damian’s hand. He hoped Raven could hear his muffled pleas. Damian shrugged a shoulder and said, “I’ve got it under control now, though, you can head back.”

Raven crossed her arms and cocked her head. “I don’t think so,” she spat. Murphy felt a wave a relief wash over him.

“This doesn’t concern you,” Damian urged, pressing Murphy further into the tree. He let out a pained yelp, feeling his broken ribs shifting from the added weight. “I suggest you leave.”

“He’s coming with me.” Raven reached for Murphy’s arm, but Damian swatted her away effortlessly with his other hand. She grabbed for him again with more force, only to be knocked to the ground with a grunt. Scowling, Raven withdrew the dagger she kept hidden in her brace, then circled behind Damian and pressed the blade to his throat. “Let him go,” she hissed.

Damian raised his hands in supplication and took a step back, allowing Murphy to slip from his grasp. “Now Raven,” he chided, “we don’t want anyone to get hurt.” Before she could react, Damian gripped his shock baton and touched it to Raven’s leg, causing her to crumble to the dirt. He kicked her knife away and straddled her frame. Murphy used the distraction to his advantage and took off towards the Ark, sprinting as fast as his wounded body would allow.

Murphy stumbled into the metal structure and raced through the halls to the Recon Room, where the Rescue Squad had been planning their attack on Mount Weather, knowing that’s where Bellamy would be. He flung himself through the door and nearly collided with Kane. Bellamy’s eyes widened almost comically. “ _Murphy?_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Hei, skai-twicha! Ai mema yu in. Yu don ste honon kom ai stegeda. Chit ste bilaik natrona gon yu kru?_  
>  Hey, skyrat! I remember you. You were a prisoner in my village. What’s it like being a traitor to your people?
> 
> _Ai don sin dison in kom gona Belomi. Emo don smuch choda op._  
>  I’ve seen this one with the warrior Bellamy. They kissed each other.
> 
> _Ah, em laik op-spuna?_  
>  Ah, he’s a ‘little spoon?’ (the phrase in this sense is a derogatory term for 'gay' just fyi)
> 
> _Em no ste yuj thau em shila._  
>  He’s not so strong without his protector.
> 
> _Gon raun, skat!_  
>  Fight back, boy!
> 
> _Hod op! B-beja!_  
>  Stop! P-please!
> 
>  
> 
> like i said, the Trigedasleng might not be completely accurate, but i did spend a lot of time researching the grammar structure and whatnot, so i feel like it's pretty close! i even asked David Peterson himself on tumblr (@dedalvs) what the word for "rat" would be :)
> 
> side note: Bevyn is a celtic/irish name that means 'young soldier'


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> here's some comfort to balance out all the hurt <3

Everyone in the room stared slack-jawed at Murphy as he burst into their meeting. He looked an absolute mess, covered in more grime and dirt than usual, his matted hair plastered against his forehead. Bevyn arrived out-of-breath at the door a moment later and doubled over, panting. He had begun searching for Murphy at the same time Raven did and when he caught sight of the delinquent running full-tilt out of the woods, Bevyn had assumed the worst. But now, as he took in Murphy’s disheveled appearance, he realized how misplaced his concern had been.

Murphy looked pleadingly at Bellamy as he tried desperately to put his words together, stuttering, “Bellamy, i-it’s Damian! H-he’s got Raven!”

Kane placed a hand on his back and spoke calmly, “Slow down, son. What are you talking about?” He paused, glancing between Murphy and Bevyn. “Why are you in handcuffs?”

Bellamy was already slinging his gun over his shoulder as he explained, “Sir, your Chief Guard Damian is incredibly dangerous.” He turned to his boyfriend with a pained expression, brushing some of the sweat-slicked hair out of the boy’s eyes. “Murph, where are they?”

Murphy hiccuped as he wiped away the lingering tears. “Th-they’re in the far east c-corner past the bonfire. _Hurry_ , Bell.”

Bellamy nodded, then started shouting orders to the others. “Somebody get him cleaned up! Let’s move!” Several guards followed his lead, brandishing their guns as they made their way out of the room.

At Bellamy’s undirected behest, Clarke went to Murphy’s side in an instant. She reached to take his hands in her own, adopting her softest healer’s voice as she asked, “Murphy? What happened?” He recoiled before she could graze his skin. “Are you okay?” Murphy shuddered. He was so far from okay. His shaking breaths were harsh as he dug the heels of his palms against his eyelids, sparks igniting in the darkness. 

Clarke raised an eyebrow at Bevyn in silent question, but he shrugged, just as confused. Murphy began to scrub compulsively at his cheek, disregarding their presence. Only when his skin began to turn red did Clarke intervene, putting a hand on his face and forcing him to look at her. “Come on, let’s go see Jackson,” she soothed, ushering him gently toward the medical wing.

When they entered the infirmary, Jackson noticed Murphy’s despondent state immediately and delegated another nurse to tend to the patient he had been with. He looked to Clarke and Bevyn first, almost accusingly. “Why is he in handcuffs?”

She shrugged as they helped Murphy onto an exam table. “We found him that way. Or rather, he found us. We were in the Recon Room when he staggered in looking like this. He said something to Bellamy about Raven, but we haven’t been able to get him to speak to us.”

Clarke fetched a damp towel while Jackson trained his attention on Murphy, shining a flashlight in his eyes before attempting conversation. “John? It’s Jackson. Can you hear me?” Clarke returned and offered the cloth to the nurse, who pressed it gingerly to Murphy’s face, dabbing away the sweat and, well, whatever else. Jackson couldn’t bring himself to think about that right now. “John, I need you to talk to me. You have to tell me what hurts.”

Murphy finally spoke quietly, his eyes trained on the floor. “If anything happens to her, it’ll be my fault.” Murphy thought he would cry again if there was anything left in him.

“Are you talking about Raven? Why would anything happen to her, John?” prompted Jackson.

“Damian,” Murphy mumbled distractedly. “He’s got her. Because of me.”

Jackson’s jaw clenched as he gestured toward the handcuffs. “Is that who did this to you?”

Murphy nodded numbly, never making eye contact. Jackson turned around, covering his eyes with his hand. If he had done something sooner, insisted on turning Damian in or at least pushed a little more for Murphy to talk to Kane, perhaps they could have avoided this situation. Bevyn interjected, “Wait. Damian? Are you talking about _Chief Guard_ Damian?”

The nurse sighed, “Yes. He’s…” Jackson paused, choosing his words carefully. “He’s dangerous.” Murphy brought his legs up to his chest and wrapped his still-cuffed arms around them, curling in on himself despite his aching, protesting ribs.

Bevyn looked puzzled. “But what does he want with Raven? I don’t understand why he’d do anything to hurt her.”

“He’s a rapist,” Murphy deadpanned. His vacant stare sent chills down Jackson’s spine.

He shifted his concern back to the boy. “John…” he started, but Murphy buried his head in his tangle of limbs and began muttering frantically, repeating the phrase over and over like a mantra.

“He’s a rapist, he’s a rapist, he’s a rapist.” And then, “It’s my fault, my fault, my fault, _my fault_.” Fear took root and flourished in Murphy's chest, constricting his lungs and clawing at his insides. He swallowed persistently in an attempt to assuage his unslaked throat. Why wasn’t Bellamy back yet? It had already been twenty minutes; finding Damian and Raven shouldn’t have taken nearly that long. What if she was seriously injured? Or- _god_ , what if Bellamy was too late and she was already dead? 

Just as the thought crossed his mind, Murphy heard Abby’s distressed voice at the entrance of the infirmary. “Raven, sit _down_. I need to check your vitals and take a look at your leg.”

Raven shrugged out of Abby’s hold. “I told you, I’m fine. Where’s Murph-” When her eyes landed on him, Murphy let out a strangled sob, relieved that she appeared to be unharmed. She approached him so quickly that Murphy thought she might hit him again. He wouldn’t have blamed her, but he flinched anyway, and Raven furrowed her brow at his reaction. “Murphy? Are you alright?” He stared at her with wide eyes, too shocked to respond. Why wasn’t she pissed? Jackson motioned for Clarke and Bevyn to follow him, leaving Raven and Murphy alone as she dropped down next to the boy on the exam table. “Hey, why didn’t you say something about Damian?”

“What?”

“You could have told Clarke or Finn or me. We wouldn’t have let that asshole near you.” She placed a tentative hand on his knee, speaking softly, “I’m sorry. We just…didn’t know.”

Murphy blinked back the tears that were threatening to form again. God, he thought he was finally done crying for the night. “What are you talking about? You guys don’t give a shit about me.”

Raven glanced down at her dangling feet, and if Murphy didn’t know any better he would have thought she almost looked guilty. She muttered, “Well, you may be a complete asshole sometimes, but…” She turned her gaze to him and offered a small, apologetic smile. “You’re still one of the hundred. One of _us_.”

Murphy made a noise somewhere between a whimper and a laugh. After everything he’d put her through, directly and indirectly, Raven was still willing to defend him. To _forgive_ him. He didn’t even try to stop the tears that were now flowing freely down his cheeks. “Raven, I’m s-so sorry.”

“I know.” She wrapped an arm around Murphy’s shaking shoulders, squeezing lightly. If Bellamy could see them right now, Murphy bet his smile would light up all of Camp Jaha.

“Wait.” Murphy pulled slightly away from Raven, frowning. “Where’s Bellamy?”

Her face dropped, and Murphy’s heart leapt into his throat. He stumbled desperately to his feet, dread settling in his stomach. Raven flicked her eyes to the nearby guards, who were straightening, gearing up to subdue the agitated delinquent, if need be. She lowered her voice. “Murphy-”

“Where is he, Raven?!” Without waiting for a response, Murphy bolted through the door, ducking to avoid the guards’ attempts at grabbing him, and smacked directly into someone running the opposite direction. They both tumbled to the floor with the momentum. Ignoring the sharp pains cascading throughout his body, Murphy looked up to see an equally shocked Bellamy sprawled on the ground. “Bell!” he cried, launching himself into his boyfriend’s lap as the rest of the guards watched with confusion.

Bellamy didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around Murphy’s frame. “Murph? What’s wrong?” Try as he might, Bellamy couldn’t conceal the fear in his tone, already anticipating another crisis.

“I th-thought you were dead!” Murphy sputtered through the sobs that wracked his chest. “Raven was fine b-but you weren’t here a-a-and I just…” he hiccuped, burying his face in Bellamy’s guard jacket. “I can’t lose you too.”

“Hey, I’m right here, it’s okay,” Bellamy soothed, stroking Murphy’s hair and rubbing comforting circles on his back. He silently jerked his head at the spectating guards with a scowl, willing them to disperse so he could console his boyfriend in peace. He kissed the top of Murphy’s head. “I’m sorry it took me so long. I wanted to come see you right away, but Major Byrne insisted on having a talk with me first.”

Murphy sniffled. “About what?”

Bellamy worked his jaw in frustration and sighed, “About self-restraint. After I saw the state you were in earlier, I couldn’t stop myself when we finally apprehended Damian. I just…kept hitting him, over and over.” He dropped his gaze to his bruised, bloodied knuckles.

“Is he…” Murphy trailed off, swallowing.

“Alive. Unconscious, and his face is pretty messed up, but he’s alive. The bastard is being kept in holding until the council decides what to do with him.”

Murphy nodded slowly as Bellamy helped him to his feet. “So, the council knows? I mean, about what he did to me?” He winced at how uneasy his voice sounded.

Bellamy gave him a sympathetic look, caressing his cheek. Murphy leaned into his touch with a quiet hum, allowing his eyelids to flutter closed as his boyfriend spoke. “If they don’t already, they’ll have to. That way he can be punished properly.” Murphy rubbed at his eyes, utterly exhausted. Bellamy felt his heart swell with affection at the sight and he dipped down to cup Murphy’s face, pressing their lips together. “Come on, let’s get these handcuffs off you and go to bed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally someone is going to get the handcuffs off Murphy


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> shout-out to nanowrimo for finally kicking my ass in gear so i could get this chapter uploaded!
> 
> #protectmurphy2kForever

Raven, Bevyn, Bellamy, and Murphy sat cross-legged on the two mattresses that Bellamy had pushed together in their room, each holding a fan of playing cards in front of their faces. They passed around a bottle of moonshine that Murphy had stolen from the newly-developed bar, happy to distract themselves from the outside world for a while.

“This game is fucking rigged!” Murphy pouted as he added four more cards into his hand from the center pile, Bevyn laughing beside him. “Plus, what kind of a stupid name is ‘Uno’? It’s bullshit.”

“It’s Spanish, you idiot. It means one.” Raven smirked at the crude gesture Murphy sent her way and continued, “Stop bitching and play, it’s your turn.”

He opened his mouth to retaliate, but a knock on the door interrupted their fun. “Come in,” Bellamy hollered.

Murphy knew it was only a matter of time before one of the Council members would be by his room. If he’d been allowed to place bets with his water tokens, he would have been happier to see Kane standing at the threshold than he currently was. Murphy relaxed when he noticed Jackson by his side, though. “What’s up, Chancellor?”

Kane offered a weary smile, and Murphy suddenly realized how fatigued he looked. He felt a pang of guilt, remembering that Kane and Damian had been close for a long time. Between handling this situation and Mount Weather, the man probably hadn’t slept in days. “Raven, Bevyn, can you give us a minute? I need to speak with these two,” he said.

Raven pocketed the remaining moonshine, despite Murphy’s annoyed glare, and ruffled his hair before exiting the room. Bevyn stood and began gathering the cards. “See you later, Murph. You can finish kicking our asses at Uno tomorrow,” he joked, smiling at Murphy on his way out. Jackson closed the door behind them.

Kane propped himself on the edge of the bed. “Mr. Murphy, I hope you’re doing well.” Murphy sat, blinking slowly, and when it became apparent he wasn’t about to say anything, the Chancellor continued, “After several hours of deliberation, the council has come to a decision regarding Damian.”

“Okay,” Murphy said hesitantly.

“We believe that his punishment should be left to your discretion.”

Murphy felt his blood turn cold as Bellamy’s body went rigid next to him. Jackson furrowed his brow in apprehension, clearly hearing this verdict for the first time as well. “What?” Bellamy asked incredulously, mirroring Murphy’s feelings.

“Since he was the wronged party, the council has concluded that Mr. Murphy has the right to choose how Damian will be prosecuted,” Kane explained.

Before Murphy had a chance to describe just how much he did _not_ want that responsibility, Jackson intervened. “Sir, with all due respect, this is a huge burden to place on John, especially with all that he has already endured.”

Kane pressed his thumb and forefinger to his eyes with a heavy sigh, exasperated. “This is the only decision that the council could agree on that doesn’t involve disclosing Damian’s crimes to the general public, as per Mr. Murphy’s wishes,” he asserted.

Jackson turned to Kane, steeling his gaze. “John’s mental health needs to be taken into consideration; frankly, what you’re asking of him is insensitive and unreasonable, and I know that Abby would feel the same way.” Murphy stirred restlessly on the bed, not enjoying the way he was being discussed like he wasn’t even there.

Bellamy noticed his discomfort and, as Kane opened his mouth to dispute further, interjected, “What about a public trial?”

“In order to hold a public trial, the people would have to know the crimes Damian committed,” Kane reiterated hotly.

“Not necessarily. At least, not all of his crimes.”

Jackson cocked his head. “What do you mean, Bellamy?”

“He attacked Murphy, Raven, and three Grounders _with_ a shock baton. Charge him for aggravated assault with a deadly weapon, and treason for threatening the alliance with Trikru,” Bellamy reasoned, shrugging. “Tell the people only what they need to know, and put him on trial for that.”

Kane sighed again, “Bellamy, I understand that you have strong feelings about this situation, but lying to the public like that is simply unethical.”

Bellamy slammed his fist down on the nightstand angrily, making everyone jump. “So is _rape_ , dammit!” Silence filled the room as he tried to regain control of his breathing. He squeezed his eyes shut and continued, “On the Ark, we would have floated him. Honestly, that monster doesn’t even deserve the mercy of a public trial, but I know the laws are different down here.”

“He has a point, Chancellor,” Jackson admitted. “I agree that this is probably the best solution.”

Bellamy turned to face Murphy, tucking some of his hair behind his ear. “What do you think, Murph?”

“I don’t care,” Murphy sighed after a while. “As long as I don’t have to choose.”

Kane smoothed a hand over his five o’clock shadow. “Okay,” he said, standing. “If that’s what you want, Mr. Murphy, then so be it.” With a resolved nod, the Chancellor made his way out the door, Jackson following close behind. As the door closed, Murphy slumped against Bellamy’s side, suddenly drained of energy.

Bellamy pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “How are you feeling?”

“I don’t know. I’m just…” He shrugged, emitting a noncommittal huff. “Just so done.” Bellamy’s chest ached with sympathy for everything that Murphy had gone through in the past few weeks. He knew that his boyfriend was undoubtedly resilient, but that strength could just as easily be a hindrance as well.

“At least this will all be over soon. After the ruling, you won’t have to worry about Damian anymore.”

Murphy pulled back, a look of uncertainty making its way onto his features. “How can you be so sure?”

Bellamy frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“We’re leaving the decision to the public,” Murphy stated, like that explained his doubt. When Bellamy didn’t respond, he clarified, “You do realize that most of the people in this camp don’t actually like me, right? Especially with the rest of the delinquents missing. I mean, Damian probably has more friends on the ground than I do. What do you think they’re gonna do when they find out that I’m the reason he’s on trial?”

A knot of anxiety began to tighten in Bellamy’s stomach. Oh, god, what did he just do? “You don’t really think they’ll want to let him go, do you? That would be ridiculous.”

“I guess I wouldn’t be surprised, is all.” Murphy gave a melancholic smile and smoothed his thumb over the concerned crease between Bellamy’s eyebrows. “It’s alright, Bell. Maybe we’ll get lucky and they’ll banish him.”

“What if they don’t? What if the people decide he should be pardoned?”

Murphy buried his face in the crook of Bellamy’s neck, wanting to just drop the subject and go back to having fun with his friends. “Then I guess I’ll just have to get better at avoiding him,” he mumbled against his skin.

“No way,” Bellamy argued, pulling Murphy back to look him in the eyes. “If he’s released without punishment, we’re leaving.” Murphy blinked up at him, confused.

“What? We can’t leave, where would we go?”

“Remember that place Lincoln talked about? The peaceful village just off the east shore? That’s where he was taking Octavia,” Bellamy described excitedly, determination seeping into his voice. “We could go there. Think about it, Murph: no more war, no more running from danger, no more fighting for our lives.”

Murphy felt a flicker of hope igniting inside him, but he quickly smothered it, reminding himself of all the reasons Bellamy had to stay in camp. The promising guard position, the budding relationship with Kane, the inherent duty to protect his people, the loyalty to his friends and the rest of the hundred. He shook his head. “You can’t leave, Bell. Everyone needs you.”

“Well, _I_ need _you_ , John, because I-” Bellamy stopped himself to blink back tears, swallowed, drew in a shaky breath, and choked out, “Because I love you.”

Murphy was, for probably the first time in his life, speechless. He’d imagined Bellamy saying those words to him, of _course_ he had, in thousands of different ways and settings and circumstances, but never like this. Never so _perfect_. He kind of wanted to puke.

Bellamy’s eyes widened in response to Murphy’s silence. He should have kept his mouth shut, it was too soon to be saying stuff like that. God, what was he _thinking_? He attempted to backtrack, stammering nervously, “I-I mean, you know, you’re important to me a-and I just-” Murphy cut him off by crashing his lips against Bellamy’s, who smiled into the kiss, relieved.

Murphy drew back long enough to whisper, “I love you too,” before resuming the kiss passionately. He threaded his fingers into Bellamy’s curls, anchoring himself to this moment, certain that he would float away otherwise. Just as Bellamy pulled Murphy onto his lap, the door to their room swung open, slamming into the metal wall and startling them from their reverie. Murphy barely stopped himself from growling over his shoulder at Monroe, who was panting in the doorway. “What do you want?” he hissed.

“Sorry,” she managed between breaths. “But they’re getting ready to put Damian on trial.”

“Jesus, right now?” Bellamy exclaimed, stumbling to his feet. He slipped his jacket on, tossing Murphy’s boots at him. “I thought they would at least wait until tomorrow.”

Monroe shook her head wildly. “No, they just announced it. We have to hurry, it’ll be starting any minute.” She took off down the hallway, Bellamy and Murphy following suit.

When they made it outside, they heard the tail-end of the broadcast over the fabricated PA system ringing through the camp and quickly caught sight of the audience that was already forming around the area designated for shock-lashing punishments. Kane stood before a handcuffed Damian with Bevyn and Sterling on either side of him, firmly gripping the man’s arms. The three delinquents sprinted to the back of the crowd where Raven, Clarke, and Finn were waving them over frantically. “What’s happened so far?” Bellamy asked under his breath.

“Nothing, really,” Finn explained. “Kane only declared that there would be a public trial a couple minutes ago. Pretty sure they’re waiting until everyone is out here.”

Murphy swallowed anxiously. It would be so _easy_ for everyone to turn on him, depending on the outcome. He already noticed a few of the other guard members scowling at him throughout the throng of people. Bellamy laced his fingers with Murphy’s, leaning down to whisper in his ear, “Don’t worry, Murph. It’s gonna be fine.” He offered a shaky smile to his boyfriend, then snapped his head to the right when he felt someone grab his other hand.

“No matter what happens, we got you, okay?” Raven assured, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. Murphy swallowed once more, overwhelmed with gratitude.

“Thank you.”

The air surrounding the gathered group was stifling and thick with tension. Several minutes dragged by excruciatingly slowly as the rest of the Arkers emerged from their work spaces or living quarters, anxious and uncertain. Even some of the Grounders were loitering curiously around the outskirts of the commotion.

When it appeared that everyone was in attendance, Kane addressed them with firm authority. “As some of you may know, Damian Bishop has been accused and found guilty of treason and five accounts of assault with a deadly weapon. Under the laws set forth in the Exodus Charter of the Ark, and since all crimes are no longer capital crimes, he’s been sentenced to a prosecution by public trial.” Gasps and hushed murmurs echoed through the wind as people traded confused looks.

A voice Murphy didn’t recognize sounded above the rest. “Who did he assault?”

“That information will not be disclosed at this time, as the victims wish to remain anonymous,” Kane informed. Murphy bit down on his lip, desperately trying to keep his composure, but he was starting to be able to pick out his name in the quiet, discontented rumble around him. “All in favor of pardoning Mr. Bishop of his crimes and releasing him back into the public, say aye.”

A handful of determined ‘ayes’ ascended into the desolate air, primarily from obdurate guards. Bellamy shared a hopeful half-smile with Clarke at the lack of response to that decree, and Murphy could feel Raven’s grasp on his hand tighten.

“All those in favor of incarcerating Mr. Bishop until further notice, say aye.” Murphy’s heart sank when a considerable number of voices affirmed. Imprisonment was better than nothing, but who knows how long it would be until Damian was discharged; perhaps only a few months. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that if he tried hard enough, maybe he could just block the entire world out. 

Suddenly, before Kane could continue listing fates, Raven dropped Murphy’s hand and took a step forward, boldly yelling, “I say we float him!” Murphy gaped at her, awestruck.

“I second that!” Monroe hollered, balling her fists. Bevyn and Sterling exchanged knowing glances, attempting to remain stoic as more shouts of agreement and demands for justice reverberated off the metal walls of the Ark. Soon, over half of the assemblage was pushing forward, chanting for Damian to be floated, as Bellamy pulled Murphy protectively against his body, guarding him from the scene that hit a little too close to home.

Kane raised a hand to silence the mass of people and took a deep breath. “Very well. All those in favor of floating Mr. Bishop, say aye.” An almost unified ‘aye’ resonated through the camp. Reluctantly, the Chancellor faced Damian and stated, “Damian Bishop, as determined by the citizens of the Ark, for your crimes, you are hereby sentenced to death.” A chilling silence fell over the crowd as the gravity of Kane’s words began to sink in. Damian swallowed, directing a final, haunting glare at Murphy before he was ushered back to his cell. Murphy raised a trembling hand to his mouth. Was any of this real?

Bellamy wordlessly swept his boyfriend into a tight hug, and they were quickly joined by more bodies as the other delinquents threw their arms around the pair in comfort and camaraderie. Some time after most of the mob had dispersed, while the misfit group still lingered, the sound of gravel crunching under heavy footfall caught their attention.

A disheveled Kane approached them, shoulders weighed down by melancholy. “Bellamy, I’m here to inform you that Damian’s execution is set for noon, the day after tomorrow.”

Bellamy looked from the Chancellor to Murphy, then back. “I’m sorry, sir, I don’t understand why you’re telling _me_ this.”

Kane placed a hand on his shoulder. “The public trial was your idea,” he explained solemnly. “Now you must follow through with the outcome.” Bellamy felt dizzy when the meaning of what Kane said hit him with unexpected force: he was going to have to kill Damian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know it seems like Kane really doesn't wanna _do_ this but think about it: this "upstanding" guy who he's known and respected his whole entire life suddenly turns out to be an awful, awful person. not only does he partially blame himself for not, like, being a psychic and realizing it before anyone got hurt, but now he also has to organize a trial and execution on top of trying to save the kids in mount weather. poor Kane. all he wants is peace, he is so exhausted


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> at long last, the final chapter!!!
> 
> thank you so much to everyone who has read this far; you all mean the world to me <3
> 
> enjoy!

Murphy shifted his shoulders against cold metal, gazing out at the treetops surrounding camp from his perch on top of one of the wings of the fallen space station that jutted out into open air. Once he had discovered he could shimmy out through an air duct, the secluded nook had become Murphy’s favorite spot to hide away. He let his head fall back against the outer wall with a dull _thud_ as a sigh escaped his lips, morphing into a visible puff of air: a spectacle that never failed to intrigue Murphy. He could spend hours watching his own breath swirl and dance in the chilled autumn sky.

And he’d done exactly that. After Bellamy found out that he’d been appointed as Damian’s executioner, he could hardly look anyone in the eye for the rest of the day. Murphy snuck out of their bed, unable to sleep, and sequestered himself in the cool night, taking company with the owls and hazy stars. But dawn was rapidly approaching now, if the chirping birds or the faint light illuminating the leaves were anything to go by. Pretty soon the guard rotation would change over for the morning shift, and Bellamy would have to take his place at the gate. Murphy knew he should go back inside before his boyfriend woke up, as not to worry him, but his limbs felt numb and useless. Which, he supposed, was pretty much like the rest of him.

“Murph?” Bellamy’s gruff morning voice startled Murphy from his peaceful, albeit depressing, reverie. He whipped his head towards the opening of the air duct, where Bellamy was in the process of attempting to squeeze his massive shoulders through. Murphy would have laughed at the sight if he didn’t feel so apathetic. Instead, he extended his hand to help pull Bellamy out onto the metallic appendage next to him. Once he was settled, Bellamy wrapped an arm around his boyfriend’s shivering frame and frowned. “Murphy, you’re freezing.”

“Hadn’t noticed,” Murphy responded with a shrug, suppressing another chill. It wasn’t exactly true, but like, he also didn’t deserve to be warm. That didn’t stop him from nuzzling further into his boyfriend’s embrace, though, and stealing his heat like a bandit.

Bellamy placed a kiss on top of Murphy’s head. “Why are you out here?” he asked, trying to disguise the concern in his voice as curiosity.

Murphy averted his gaze to the tree line, where the sun was just beginning to peek out. “I figured you might not want to be around me right now. I thought it would just be a reminder of what you have to do.”

He felt Bellamy’s arm subtly tighten across his shoulders. “None of this is your fault, Murphy,” Bellamy assured, reading right through him. Murphy swallowed around the lump that was quickly forming in his throat.

“That’s not what they think,” Murphy said, gesturing with his chin to the early risers that were already milling about, preparing for the day’s work. The numb, useless feeling returned, but this time it rooted in his chest. The technicalities of the situation didn’t matter; even if he wasn’t to blame, and even if the crimes weren’t just about him, Murphy knew that the rest of the camp’s residents would never see him as anything but the person who condemned Damian to death. That thought alone was enough to make Murphy feel like he was being crushed, and he was just so _tired_ of not being able to breathe. “Can we still go to Luna’s village together?” Murphy found himself asking, before his brain had even registered he was speaking. He scrambled to catch up with the words. “Like, after the kids in Mount Weather are rescued. After everything is finally over with. Could we leave?” The question sounded weak and pathetic to his own ears, like an excuse to run away from his problems. But Bellamy turned to him with something akin to wonder in his expression, and it made the knot of anxiety that had twisted in Murphy’s stomach loosen ever so slightly.

“Do you want to?”

Murphy took a moment to assess his thoughts, and found that he _really_ did. It wasn’t just a chance to escape the hostile environment he’d wound up in once again. The idea of creating a home with Bellamy, living for something other than war and hunger and uncertainty and death, was exhilarating. “More than anything,” he admitted, happily noting how relieved Bellamy looked. 

“Murphy, I-” Bellamy’s response was cut short when a commotion at the front gate tore their attention away from each other. Several guards were shouting orders, demanding that the gate be opened. Sharing a quick, nervous glance, the boys quickly ducked back inside so that they could join the calamity on the ground. When they got to the camp’s entrance, Bellamy let out an audible gasp as he realized what the excitement was about. Murphy followed his gaze, and he felt all the air leave his lungs when he caught sight of a few recognizable faces that he hadn’t seen since the battle at the Dropship. 

Jasper was at the front of the group, half-supporting, half-carrying a thin, pale Monty with his left arm. Fox and Harper followed close behind, the latter appearing a little worse for the wear. Miller came through the gate next, and was immediately pulled into a bone-crushing hug from his father. After a moment of taking in all of their tired but determined expressions, and feeling Bellamy practically radiating with warmth and enthusiasm next to him, Murphy curiously noted that he, too, was glad to see all of them alive. Things may have been tense between them, but the last thing he wanted was to be surrounded by more death. And he couldn’t help but laugh at _that_ particular realization. Look how far they’d come.

“Hope you’re ready for that beach vacation,” Bellamy mumbled low in Murphy’s ear. His deep, husky voice sent shivers up and down Murphy’s spine and by the time he’d recovered from the effect, Bellamy was already making his way over to the group with a wide grin.

Later that night, despite how exhausted everyone was from the trek back to Camp Jaha and the necessary medical examinations thereafter, an impromptu ‘welcome home’ party was in full swing for the delinquents. Murphy wasn’t quite sure where the abundance of moonshine came from, but he wasn’t complaining either. The teens drank, laughed, danced to music from the tiny white box that Jasper had borrowed from his new girlfriend, whose name Murphy couldn’t recall at the moment, traded stories of what the other party had missed in their time apart, and, finally, listened with quiet awe when Clarke recounted the tense negotiation that she, Commander Lexa, and President Dante Wallace had the day before. 

Apparently it was agreed upon that, between the Sky People and the Grounders, there would be more than enough volunteers to supply the Mountain Men with the bone marrow needed in order for them to “return to the ground.” At first, Murphy didn’t get why they so desperately wanted to be outside, where things were bright and harsh and significantly lacking in chocolate cake, but then he thought about how dull life had been on the Ark. He supposed he understood.

As the night grew older and the hype began to die down, Murphy watched intently while Bellamy drifted around the bonfire, pulling each and every one of the remaining hundred into unabashed hugs in a very _un_ -Bellamy manner, which was probably more than a little confusing for most, since Murphy and Bellamy had agreed not to disclose their plans to depart Camp Jaha until the day of. Murphy wasn’t sure if the sudden affection was because it had been so long since he’d seen them, or if it was because he didn’t know whether or not he’d see them again after they left for Luna’s village. Perhaps both. When Bellamy reached Harper and Monroe and Miller, Monty and Jasper, Finn and Raven, and then finally Clarke, Murphy downed his third cup of moonshine in a single burning swallow and quietly removed himself from the circle. It didn’t take long for the alcohol to hit him, and he had to prop himself against a tree in the shadows once his head started spinning. 

He wasn’t quite drunk - not yet, anyway - but he could certainly feel the telltale signs of inebriation creeping into his body. Unfortunately, he noted, his pleasant buzz was rapidly morphing into a shaky, anxious sort of liquor-fueled self-loathing. Who the fuck was _he_ to force Bellamy to leave his friends behind and waste his time with someone like him? Murphy knew he didn’t deserve a lot of things, but, by far, the thing he deserved least in the world was Bellamy. The man who never stopped risking his life for others, tethered to the boy who destroyed everything he touched? That just wasn’t fair.

Murphy slid down to the ground, collapsing in a defeated heap of limbs, wracked with guilt. His sloshing gut filled with dread as he finally came to the depressing conclusion that he was going to have to let Bellamy go. If he was being truly honest, it’s what he should have done weeks ago, before things got too serious. Before he admitted he was in love.

As if on cue, Murphy opened his eyes to find himself at eye-level with his boyfriend’s dirty combat boots. He glanced up, seeing Bellamy’s fond look of amusement, and promptly buried his head beneath his arm with a grunt. “Have a little too much to drink there, Casanova?” he teased, but when Murphy met his gaze again with glistening eyes, all thoughts of cheer and banter were overshadowed immediately by his concern. He kneeled down beside Murphy’s frame and placed a comforting hand on his back. “Hey, hey, hey. Murph, what’s wrong?”

Murphy wasn’t sure when, between standing and sitting, the moonshine had completely taken over, but as he pushed himself into an upright position, his whole world tilted dizzyingly on its axis. He squeezed his eyes shut and ran his fingers through his matted locks with an irritated huff, trying to make himself come across as bitter or indignant. Anything but heartbroken.

“Y’know, you’re great and, like, thanks for sticking around this long,” he managed between hiccups and an uncooperative tongue, “but I’m, um…I’m, like, setting you free. Or whatever. ‘Kay?” When Bellamy only stared dumbly back at him, Murphy tried to shoo him away with one arm, but instead it kind of flopped in his lap noncommittally. “Go on. Spread your wings an’ fly away orrrr…some shit,” he slurred.

“You say that like I know what you’re talking about and I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Bellamy said dryly as he helped Murphy back onto his feet, but some of the amusement had returned to his eyes. Murphy opened his mouth to explain as best as his alcohol-riddled brain could manage, but his vision began shifting and blurring from the sudden verticalness and he noticed with some degree of regret that his mouth and throat were abnormally slick. He must have looked as shitty as he felt, because Bellamy grimaced, placed his cool hand on the back of Murphy’s clammy neck, and asked, “Are you gonna be sick?”

Murphy barely had time to nod before he doubled over, bracing himself against the tree, and managed, thankfully, to vomit into the dead leaves rather than on their shoes. Bellamy held his hair back out of his face while he retched and heaved until he was sure there was nothing left inside him, and he quickly remembered how Bellamy was far too good for him, and how that was the exact reason he’d gotten drunk in the first place. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and tried to will away the tears that were threatening to form. “I’m sorry,” he croaked pitifully, dropping back down to the dirty ground where he belonged.

“Come on. Up, up,” Bellamy coaxed, and before Murphy could protest, he was easily lifted into his boyfriend’s arms, bridal style, and they were heading back toward the Ark. “Let’s get you to bed.” Murphy groaned despairingly, and the last thought that crossed his mind before slipping into unconsciousness was that he could add ‘a fun night of celebration for Bellamy’ to the list of things he’d successfully ruined.

The next morning, Murphy woke slowly, with a dull throb pulsing in his head. He had barely cracked one eye open before Bellamy started peppering his face with light kisses. “Mornin', sunshine,” he drawled, earning a tired glare from his boyfriend.

“How the fuck long were you watching me sleep, you weirdo?” Murphy grunted, feeling his cheeks flush.

“Few minutes, probably,” Bellamy shrugged. He hesitated for a moment, then added, “I wanted to talk about last night.”

With those words, Murphy’s mind flashed back to the bonfire, and to his stupid, drunk ass trying to have a serious conversation with Bellamy and then puking up his guts. He groaned at the memory, and at his shitty self-control, and braced himself for what he knew was coming: Bellamy had finally come to his senses and was going to explain that this had all been a crazy mistake and that, well, maybe they could still be friends. On the bright side, at least Murphy wouldn’t have to be the one to end it.

“Just try and make it quick and painless,” he sighed, wanting to get the process over with as soon as possible so he could curl up and die in a hole in peace.

“What even are you talking about?” Bellamy asked, exasperated.

Murphy frowned. “I mean if you’re gonna dump me, just do it fast.”

“What?” Bellamy broke into a grin, despite himself. “Murph, I’m not dumping you. Where on earth did you get that idea?”

Oh.

“I just…I thought that maybe you changed your mind and also I ruined your evening and almost threw up on you,” Murphy muttered.

“You just had too much to drink. It was a party, Murph, sometimes that happens. No, I just wanted to ask what exactly were you babbling about last night? Something about ‘setting me free,’ if I remember correctly.” Murphy felt heat rising to his cheeks again, recalling his ridiculous behavior with more clarity than he would have hoped for.

He thought about avoiding the subject for now and just playing it off as drunken nonsense, but ultimately he decided that prolonging the inevitable wouldn’t do him any good. So, after drawing in a shaky breath to steady his nerves, he blurted, “You don’t have to go to Luna’s village with me.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Murphy dropped his gaze to where his hands were fumbling with the blanket, not wanting to witness Bellamy’s reaction.

A thick, tense silence filled the air while Bellamy tried to process what Murphy had said. “So, what, you don’t want to leave anymore?” Murphy swallowed, refusing to look at his boyfriend. This was so much harder than he thought it would be.

“No, I mean…you know that old saying that goes like, ‘if you love something, let it go’? That’s what I’m trying to do.”

Bellamy gently lifted Murphy’s chin so that he could meet his gaze, and softened his voice. “What’s this all about, Murph?”

If Bellamy had been indifferent or angry or even upset, it would have been simpler. Those were emotions Murphy understood and knew how to handle. But the warm, tender compassion Bellamy gave him was too much; without warning, hot tears began to roll down his cheeks.

“You’re so selfless and wonderful and _good_ , Bell,” he explained. “And I don’t deserve any of that. I don’t deserve _you_.”

Without hesitation, Bellamy pulled Murphy’s face to his own, pressing their lips together for a long time until the tears began to subside. When Murphy had finally stopped sniffling, Bellamy broke the kiss and touched their foreheads together. “You know,” he started, “there’s another part to that saying.”

“W-what?”

Bellamy smiled softly. “If you love something, let it go; if it comes back to you, it’s yours forever.” He paused briefly to let the meaning of his words sink in and then whispered, “My world is so much better with you in it, John.”

Murphy watched Bellamy for a moment with wide eyes, and with a wavering voice he finally said, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Bellamy chuckled before wrapping Murphy in his arms. After a few minutes, he asked quietly, “Still wanna grow old together by the ocean?”

Murphy let out something between a sob and a laugh, burying his head against Bellamy’s chest. “Yeah,” he nodded. “I really do.”

Bellamy and Murphy spent several luxurious hours curled up in bed, delaying what had to be done for as long as possible, but once they stepped outside the Ark, reality was waiting for them.

They made their way, slowly but deliberately, across camp, trying their best to ignore the pitiful glances and angry glares. Damian may have been a criminal, but that would never change the fact that the Arkers still saw Murphy as the one to blame for his death. Bellamy desperately wanted to point out just how hypocritical that was, seeing as the trial had been anything but one-sided, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good now. None of it mattered because they were so close to a real sanctuary. When Murphy closed his eyes, he could almost picture it. He had never seen the ocean, but Murphy fondly remembered the poems that Mbege used to read to him about pastel pink and burnt orange sunsets bleeding across the horizon and soft, bubbling waves that never stopped lapping at the sandy shore until the end of time. Murphy could practically taste the salt of the sea spray on his tongue already.

“Damian Bishop,” Bellamy declared, as the man kneeled before him with his hands bound and his jaw set firmly. “You have been sentenced to death in accordance with the Exodus Charter.” He took a deep breath, positioned his gun, and continued, “Any last words?”

He had told Murphy that it wasn’t necessary for him to attend the execution, but Bellamy had stuck by his side through everything, so he decided the least he could do was be there for moral support. But, when Damian swept his gaze over Murphy one last time, part of him regretted the choice.

“May we meet again, Johnny.”

Bellamy thought he might feel remorseful or conflicted or maybe just a little hesitant when it came time for him to execute one of his own people. Murphy thought he would feel exultant or vindicated or at least relieved once his rapist was finally dead. But, after the deafening gunshot rang out through the camp, startling crows out of the surrounding trees, and Damian’s lifeless body slumped to the ground, they simply observed with parted lips and vacant stares.

Murphy and Bellamy fell asleep in each other’s arms that night and didn’t feel a goddamn thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's called an ipod, Murph
> 
> so, here we are. everyone's a little broken and a little jaded, but they're alive despite it all. once again, infinite thanks to each and every one of you! your comments and kudos are certainly what kept me going.
> 
> if you liked this, feel free to check out my other works <3
> 
> find me on tumblr @modestmouse-colouredpeople


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